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terror-slut · 2 years

Note

11/10 will be patiently sitting and waiting for another chapter of “Change of Heart”. that man has me WHIPPED and the way you wrote him!? absolutely captivating. <33

Change of Heart

Chapter 02/?? click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!

Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.

Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader

Word count: 1403

Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N). Ratings may change as chapters are being added.

A/N: bit of a backstory on the reader and more character building for these two <3 I also made a little playlist, check it out if you’d like. Also, I will be updating this fic bi-weekly!

Thick, visceral silence fills the hallway as they stare at one another. Him, all long limbs and easy going smiles, clad in the same uniform as always. Her, caught like a deer in headlights in nothing but a pastel nightgown.

“What? You’ve never seen a girl in a nightgown before?” Her tone is cold when she breaks the silence, but he can tell the pediatrician is nervous by the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and doesn’t dare to look the tall orderly straight in the eye.

“I have. Just not in here,” his reply has her roll her eyes in the back of her head, but Peter watches the slightest blush creep upon her cheeks. How amusing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, doctor, but your shift ended hours ago.”

“Yes, it has,” she is purposefully being evasive, her walls are right back up and stronger than ever after Peter smothered her request earlier that day.

Certain that the door she opened for him prior remains ajar, he reminds himself that surrender is not something that comes to him naturally.

“And yet, you’re still here,” a soft smile graces his lips, signaling that there is no bad intent behind his questions, only curiosity. “Why?”

She sighs, taking in the lanky figure of the orderly in front of her. He towers over her, much taller than she herself is. His hands are folded neatly behind his back like always and despite her indecently dressed body and his fully dressed frame, he keeps a respectable distance between the two of them.

She’s never thought of him as anything but friendly, the way he greets her like clockwork despite her insistence on ignoring her coworkers. And although he shut down her request, she knows he cares for the kids at Hawkins lab. Peter Ballard might be the most trustworthy guy in the entire facility. Really, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

“If I tell you, can we get out of this hallway? There’s cameras everywhere and I don’t need my business discussed like it’s the morning news,” He nods, blond hair falling in sync with the incline of his head.

“I will follow your lead, doctor.”

And so, they arrive back at her office, though it looks more like a makeshift bedroom now. On the floor lies a sleeping pad meant for camping trips, and her uniform is neatly folded and placed on the chair where 015 was sitting earlier that day. On her desk stands an electric kettle and a few dishes, ready to be used.

Peter quietly watches as she puts a large cardigan on over her nightgown before facing him again. His arms are crossed in front of his chest now, and her desk supports his frame as he leans against it.

“Tea?” She’s stalling. He shakes his head.

“I’m more interested in you than I am in tea,” the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile when she tries to hide her reddened cheeks for the second time that night. How easy she is to coax. “Don’t you have a loving husband to return home to? Why is it that you’re still here, when it’s nearly midnight?”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce. Die.

That comment seems to set her off, her face brewing up a storm.

“Please, don’t. That is the festering root of my all my problems,” she scoffs, walking over to the desk where Peter’s tall frame is leaning against.

“Your husband?”

A bitter laugh escapes her.

“I’m happily unmarried, Peter,” she explains, lifting herself up upon the desk. He scoots over to give her the space to sit without breaking eye contact.

“But ever since my mother passed, my father is hell bent on finding me a man,” now her guard is lowered, but her fingers are still anxiously tying themselves in knots, Peter notices.

“He wants me to marry a man who can provide for me. He was always against the whole med school thing, but my mother had my back. I graduated some time ago, and my mother passed away not long after,” she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of him, afraid of what he might say or think of her.

“He’s old school. He believes women belong in the kitchen and going to university and having a job is just my rebellious phase until I settle down,” she scoffs.

“I would rather die, Peter,” the tone of her voice is so genuine that something deep inside his chest reacts to her words. His lungs seem to expand further against his ribcage and something warm and unfamiliar slashes aggressively, needy, at the base of his belly.

“I would rather die,” she repeats, “than live the life my mother lived. I’d prefer death over having my academic aspirations squashed because I’m busy cooking dinner for a husband who doesn’t see me as a person, raising kids I never wanted and cleaning up after them every single day. Even the idea makes me nauseous.”

“When I told him I wanted to specify in pediatrics, he laughed at me. He said my maternal instinct won after all. God, I was so angry I considered changing my mind.” the memory of it boils her blood all over again until Peter squeezes her clenched fist with his cool hand. He weaves his fingers through hers until her hand relaxes in his. Only then, he lets go.

“What happened today?” He asks.

“He arranged a date for me, tonight. Some desperate old fool who gets off on the thought of having a younger wife,” the tone of her voice is bitter, but he can detect something else in there.

Fear.

“I couldn’t go, Peter,” she says. He understands.

“My dad and I had a fight this morning, right before I left. He told me if I didn’t show up tonight, I shouldn’t bother coming home at all. Ever again,” a shakey sigh leaves her lips. “Dr. Brenner said it was okay for me to use the office, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll face my dad again. But right now, I just need some time to recharge.”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce? Live.

She softly bumps his shoulder with her own when he stays silent like he has for most of her rant. Worry settles in her bones.

“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think badly of me, now. I don’t even think… I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” she carefully slides off the desk to create some space between herself and the orderly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said… anything.”

“You shouldn’t worry about what I think,” her shoulders loosen a bit when the words leave his mouth.

“Or what anyone else thinks. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a magnificent young woman,” he, too, takes a step away from the desk and towards her, overcome with the sudden urge to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, he digs the heels of his shoes in the solid tiles of her office floor in an attempt to ground himself.

“You shouldn’t have to conform to anyone else’s idea of who you are,” his voice is so soft and his words nearly addictive. She could hear him speak for hours upon hours.

“You don’t think it’s selfish?” she asks, frowning in disbelief at his opinion on the matter.

“It is never selfish to choose yourself, doctor,” he cocks his head to the side and sends her the same comforting smile he gave her earlier, and this time, she smiles back.

“Thank you,” she says, while taking a step closer to him. The cardigan she had put on earlier is starting to slip off her shoulder, and she’s so close now that he can feel her breathing on his face. She smells like pomegranate and lemongrass and he wants to touch her now, find out if her skin is really as soft as it looks, if every part of her is as pretty as he imagines it to be.

“No need to thank me,” he says instead. The fabric of her cardigan is soft against his touch when he slips it back up her shoulder, covering her from his wandering gaze.

“My point still stands,” she then says.

“And what point is that?” he asks.

“You are a good guy, Peter.”

Taglist: @sunweee @ancientbeing10 @njutul

Lmk if you want to be added/removed to the tag list!

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unboundprompts · 2 months

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How to write about someone’s appearance? Their physique, styles, face , clothes,?

How to Describe a Character's Appearance

-> dabblewriter.com

-> link to Character Description Prompts

Avoid Over-Describing

Overloading readers with too much information can be overwhelming and make your characters feel flat and one-dimensional. Focus on the details that are the most important to the story and the characters themselves.

If the character's appearance is not central to the story, then you may only need to give a basic description. If it plays a significant role, you may want to go into more detail. Always keep the purpose of your physical descriptions in mind.

Show Don't Tell

Don't blatantly state every little thing about your character's appearance, but rather show it through their actions and behaviors.

example: If they are tall, show that through their actions. They have to duck to get under a doorway, they help someone reach the top shelf, etc.

Include Personality Traits

A character's personality is what makes them memorable. Consider their motivations, values, beliefs, and quirks and give them a well-defined personality.

Avoid Stereotypes

Create characters that are more than just their cultural, racial, ethnic, or gender identity. Give them unique interests, hobbies, and personalities. Allow them to have flaws, contradictions, and diverse perspectives.

External Features

External features include a character's height, weight, body type, and general appearance. You can describe their skin color, hair color, eye color, and any distinctive features like freckles or scars. This type of description gives the reader a basic understanding of what the character looks like, which is helpful in creating a mental image.

Clothing

Describing the type of clothing they wear, including the colors, patterns, and how they fit, can reveal a lot about a character’s personality and social status.

For example, a character who wears tailored suits and expensive shoes might be a little snobby and concerned with their image, while a character who wears ripped jeans and t-shirts might be casual and relaxed.

Facial Features

Facial features can be used to give the reader a more in-depth understanding of a character's personality and emotions. You can describe their smile, the way they frown, their cheekbones, and their jawline. You can also describe their eyebrows, the shape of their nose, and the size and shape of their eyes, which can give the reader insight into their emotions.

Body Language

Body language can be used to give the reader an understanding of a character's emotions and personality without the need for dialogue. Describing the way a character stands, walks, or gestures can reveal a lot about their confidence level, mood, and attitude.

For example, a character who slouches and avoids eye contact is likely to be shy, while a character who stands up straight and makes direct eye contact is likely to be confident.

Words to Describe Various Features

Head and face

Oval: rounded, elongated, balanced, symmetrical

Round: full, plump, chubby, cherubic

Square: angular, defined, strong, masculine

Heart: pointy, triangular, wider at the temples, narrow at the chin

Diamond: angular, pointed, narrow at the forehead and jaw, wide at the cheekbones

Long: elongated, narrow, oval, rectangular

Triangular: angular, wide at the jaw, narrow at the forehead, inverted heart-shape

Oblong: elongated, rectangular, similar to oval but longer

Pear-shaped: narrow at the forehead, wide at the jaw and cheekbones, downward-pointing triangle

Rectangular: angular, defined, similar to oblong but more squared

Facial features

Cheeks: rosy, plump, gaunt, sunken, dimpled, flushed, pale, chubby, hollow

Chin: pointed, cleft, rounded, prominent, dimpled, double, weak, strong, square

Ear: large, small, delicate, flapped, pointed, rounded, lobeless, pierced

Eyes: deep-set, angled, bright, piercing, hooded, wide-set, close-set, beady, slanted, round, droopy, sleepy, sparkling

Forehead: high, broad, wrinkled, smooth, furrowed, low, narrow, receding

Jaw: strong, square, defined, angular, jutting, soft, weak, chiseled

Lips: full, thin, chapped, cracked, puckered, pursed, smiling, quivering, pouty

Mouth: wide, small, downturned, upturned, smiling, frowning, pouting, grimacing

Nose: hooked, straight, aquiline, button, long, short, broad, narrow, upturned, downturned, hooked, snub

Eyebrows: arched, bushy, thin, unkempt, groomed, straight, curved, knitted, furrowed, raised

Hair

Texture: curly, straight, wavy, frizzy, lank, greasy, voluminous, luxurious, tangled, silky, coarse, kinky

Length: long, short, shoulder-length, waist-length, neck-length, chin-length, buzzed, shaven

Style: styled, unkempt, messy, wild, sleek, smoothed, braided, ponytail, bun, dreadlocks

Color: blonde, brunette, red, black, gray, silver, salt-and-pepper, auburn, chestnut, golden, caramel

Volume: thick, thin, fine, full, limp, voluminous, sparse

Parting: center-parted, side-parted, combed, brushed, gelled, slicked back

Bangs: fringed, side-swept, blunt, wispy, thick, thin

Accessories: headband, scarf, barrettes, clips, pins, extensions, braids, ribbons, beads, feathers

Body

Build: slender, skinny, lean, athletic, toned, muscular, burly, stocky, rotund, plump, hefty, portly

Height: tall, short, petite, lanky, willowy, stocky, rotund

Posture: slouching, upright, hunched, stiff, relaxed, confident, nervous, slumped

Shape: hourglass, pear-shaped, apple-shaped, athletic, bulky, willowy, curvy

Muscles: defined, toned, prominent, ripped, flabby, soft

Fat distribution: chubby, plump, rounded, jiggly, wobbly, flabby, bloated, bloated

Body hair: hairy, smooth, shaven, beard, goatee, mustache, stubble

Weight: light, heavy, average, underweight, overweight, obese, lean, skinny

Body language: confident, nervous, aggressive, submissive, arrogant, timid, confident, relaxed

Body movements: graceful, clunky, fluid, awkward, jerky, smooth, agile, rigid

Build

Muscular: ripped, toned, defined, well-built, buff, brawny, burly, strapping

Athletic: fit, toned, agile, flexible, energetic, muscular, athletic, sporty

Thin: skinny, slender, slim, lanky, bony, gaunt, angular, wiry

Stocky: sturdy, broad-shouldered, compact, muscular, solid, robust, heavy-set

Overweight: plump, chubby, rotund, heavy, portly, corpulent, stout, fleshy

Fat: overweight, overweight, rotund, heavy, bloated, tubby, round, fat

Lean: lanky, slender, skinny, thin, wiry, willowy, spare, underweight

Larger: large, heavy, hefty, substantial, solid, overweight, portly, rotund

Skin

Texture: smooth, soft, silky, rough, bumpy, flaky, scaly, rough

Tone: fair, light, pale, dark, tan, olive, bronze, ruddy, rosy

Complexion: clear, radiant, glowing, dull, blotchy, sallow, ruddy, weathered

Wrinkles: deep, fine, lines, crow's feet, wrinkles, age spots

Marks: freckles, age spots, birthmarks, moles, scars, blemishes, discoloration

Tone: even, uneven, patchy, discolored, mottled, sunburned, windburned

Glow: luminous, radiant, healthy, dull, tired, lifeless

Tautness: taut, firm, loose, saggy, wrinkles, age spots, slack

Condition: healthy, glowing, radiant, dry, oily, acne-prone, sunburned, windburned

Style

Clothing: trendy, stylish, fashionable, outdated, classic, eclectic, casual, formal, conservative, bold, vibrant, plain, ornate

Fabric: silk, cotton, wool, leather, denim, lace, satin, velvet, suede, corduroy

Colors: bright, bold, pastel, neutral, vibrant, muted, monochrome

Accessories: jewelry, hats, glasses, belts, scarves, gloves, watches, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings

Shoes: sneakers, boots, sandals, heels, loafers, flats, pumps, oxfords, slippers

Grooming: well-groomed, unkempt, messy, clean-cut, scruffy, neat

Hair: styled, messy, curly, straight, braided, dreadlocks, afro, updo, ponytail

Makeup: natural, bold, minimal, heavy, smokey, colorful, neutral

Personal grooming: clean, fragrant, unkempt, well-groomed, grooming habits

Overall appearance: put-together, disheveled, polished, rough, messy, tidy

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #ask box prompts #how to write #how to describe a character's appearance #how to describe a character #character description #writing help #writing tip #writing tips and tricks #writing advice

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 month

Text

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her.

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within.

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont.

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins.

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?”

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part.

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

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angelicyouth · 3 months

Text

Proscenium

⇢ pairing(s): multiple x newkid!reader

⇢ genre: identity reveal ; the stick of truth + the fractured but whole AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist]

⇢ note: this picks up years after the two video games that this AU takes place in (the flashbacks in this story are canon to the games) but can be read with no prior knowledge of them! :)

At thirteen years old, hormones slowly crept up into one’s life until puberty suddenly hit everyone all at once and all too fast. It was in the 8th grade that everyone came back from summer vacation different—what was once baby fat and ambiguous soft edges turned into more defined features and deeper voices. The appearance of girls altered in a way that could only be described as more developed, filling out in areas that they just didn’t used to.

Mr. Garrison decided that with this fresh transition into the beginning of their teenage years, that it would be a swell idea to teach his students about the notion of responsibility and of all the things that encompass it. This led to everyone sitting on the well-worn yet soft material of the fabric that adorns the chairs in the theater belonging to the town’s local middle school.

“Class, settle down now. I want all of you to know that before we begin, each and every one of you are talented. It may not be catered for the skills needed to succeed in theater, like singing or dancing. But don’t be ashamed of trying your best because I’ll find a job for every single one of you. Costume design, stagehand, the set—they’re just as important as the actors, you hear me?” The older man says in reassurance at his heightened stance on the wooden stage, looking at the sea of students that had varying degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces.

With these tentative first steps into their young adulthood, everyone was feeling lingering traces of insecurity and confusion. It was the start of the years where the children of South Park were trying to explore themselves as individuals—trying to find out who they are and where they truly belonged.

As such, it was also the time where they often felt too ‘cool’ to try hard in order to fit in with the rest of their peers. Everyone just wanted to belong, to not be labeled as an outcast. This was driven by certain people being naturally blessed by mother nature, their hormones making them conventionally attractive whereas some were struggling with artificial things for societal standards such as the condition of their skin or the metal bulk of their braces.

It was the awkward stage of life where people were more self conscious, more self aware of how they looked and how they spoke—who they hung out with and what their interests were. This was the beginning of when people started paying closer attention to their sexuality, to the genders of the members that each person found themselves attracted to.

It was also the beginning of when the boys started paying closer attention to Y/N L/N.

See, you had always hung out with the boys, often forgoing the likes of Wendy Testaburger or Bebe Stevens. Not because you didn’t like the group of girls in class (because they were still your dear friends, never forgetting to extend a personal invite to you for lunch on the weekends or to trips to the mall), but more so because the guys had claimed you first. They’re all you’ve ever known since the fourth grade—from when you were still the new kid to now, they’ve always been a constant presence both during school and after.

You were there when the boys decided to dedicate their free time to live action role-playing games, like superheroes or fantasy. During the nights that were spent finding scrap fabric to put together and painting props for when they donned their multicolored costumes and created super aliases. Or when the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was at war with The Elves for the wooden relic that once possessed the control of the whole entire universe.

The thing was, living in a mountain town like South Park meant that people typically adorned multiple, thick layers of material to help insulate themselves against the freezing temperatures. You, of course, weren’t an exception to the weather as you didn’t grow up here like the rest of your friends, which meant that you always kept either your hood up or wore a hat to keep yourself warm.

Granted, you didn’t find out until later on that your parents were actively trying to hide your identity from the government, but this inadvertently assisted in everyone misgendering you. It also didn’t help that you were silent in nature and therefore never bothered to correct anyone, but on the other hand, this earned you the fond nickname of ‘Douchebag’ and the boys never quite realizing that you were not a boy, but a girl.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You were late for the first day of the school year, rushing to rip off all of the paper tags attached to the new clothing your mother bought for you when she realized how quickly you outgrew your wardrobe during the summer. Unsteadily hopping around on one foot with a toothbrush wedged into your mouth, you finally got a leg through the soft material of the skirt that you were going to wear for the day.

Discreetly trying to open the heavy double doors leading to the school’s auditorium proves to be futile as everyone casts their bored eyes towards the disturbance at the back of the room. Keeping your head lowered in an attempt to stay hidden, your legs rush to bring your body to where your group of friends were sitting.

“Uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cartman arrogantly calls out when your body lands onto an unoccupied seat near him, your eyes rolling as you lay your backpack on the floor beside your feet.

“Aye! I’m fucking talking to you!” The larger teen yells in indignation when you continue to ignore him, his face heating up in anger when the guys begin to snicker behind their hands.

Heaving his body up, Cartman leans closer to you to roughly yank the hood off of your head to identify the current bane of his existence. This, however, leads him to be swept in confusion as the rest of the guys similarly halt their vocal amusement. “Who the fuck..?”

“Y/N—are you here? You’re up next to audition.” Garrison calls out, the boys quickly whipping their heads when they see you haul your form up to begin your ascent to the stage.

“What the fuck are you doing?! N/N’s not some lame pussy bitch!”

A tired sigh resounds from the older teacher’s mouth because it was way too early to be dealing with this shit. “Eric, Y/N has been a girl for the past four years that she’s been living in South Park. Nothing has changed except for your attention to details.”

“Wh—no he isn’t!” He sputters.

The guys stare at you in varying levels of disbelief and confusion, watching as you tuck visibly soft strands of hair behind your ear while Mr. Garrison passes you a script. Not only are you wearing a damn skirt (which the boys greedily eye as they showcase your long and smooth legs), but your jacket is unzipped for the first time that they’ve met you (in your haste to get ready, your scrambled brain forgot to properly zip it all the way up).

Due to this, they could see the way that the fabric of your top hugs your developing curves in all of the right places—cinching the delicate slopes of your waist and allowing them to see the growing but still notable bust that your outerwear has never revealed. It is then that their admittedly slow brains catches them up on the long lashes that gently kisses the red skin of your still cold cheeks everytime that you blink and how under the fluorescents of the stage lights, the pretty pink of your plump lips are further accentuated to slicked perfection.

“... Douchebag..?” Butters hesitatingly calls out, his voice meek in the sudden revelation of information on their long-time friend.

Busy reading the ink running along the script within your hands, the boys become shocked to muteness when your head lifts up in attention to the sound of your nickname. Your head tilts to the side in question when no one speaks, your disinterested eyes patiently waiting for the verbal reason that they called you.

“No fucking way.” They all seem to chorus because…

… When in the hell did the notoriously mute member of their group become so hot?

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I call dibs!” Clyde yells out as soon as the boys step just one foot onto the cold linoleum that covers the hallway’s floors when the last class before the lunch period is dismissed.

“Wh—you can’t fucking do that!” Kenny indignantly cries out, the blonde angrily pushing his parka’s hood back so that he can properly argue.

“Yeah, I can! Wanna know why?” The brunette smugly continues, his arms crossed in self satisfaction for speaking up first as all the guys glare at him.

“Well, I’m super handsome and insanely funny! I play sports so my hot bod is just as amazing as my smile and I’m clearly so generous and kind and nice since I’m giving you assholes multiple reasons instead of one!” He childishly finishes off, a cheeky grin stretching wide on his face even as Kenny grabs him by the collars of his letterman jacket to roughly slam him against the metal surface of the nearest locker.

“What?!” The blonde screams into his face in frustration.

“That’s fucking lame, dude. If you think N/N is going to settle for some shallow, narcissistic asshole then there’s no point of claiming her first.” Stan angrily spits out, the skin in between his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers fidgeting with the spark wheel of his lighter as he lazily leans beside where Clyde and Kenny are trying to throttle each other.

“Says the self proclaimed rizzler who gets an upset twummy wummy when a cute girl so much as looks in your direction, barf breath.” Kenny mocks in a baby voice, the blonde halting in his attempted murder as his brunette victim begins to obnoxiously laugh at his quip.

“Oh gee fellas… Well if it’s first come first serve, then I guess I’ll be getting this one. See ya!” Butters quickly tries to walk away from the group before Craig grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, effectively choking the blonde until he stops.

“And how the hell does that make any sense?” The taller ravenette asks, an eyebrow condescendingly quirked up and his fist unwillingly to let go lest the blonde tries to pull a fast one again.

“Wuh—well because! I’m the first person that met her, don’tcha fellers remember? I was the one to bring her to Kupa Keep when she first moved in so I’m her oldest and dearest buddy!” Everyone stops walking as they display unamused looks on their faces at the explanation, causing the captured teen to nervously rub his knuckles together at their joined silence.

Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yeah—by like, 5 minutes! And I don’t think you should be proud of that encounter because you were getting your ass handed to you when she met you.”

“And what’s wrong with that? N/N is strong and fearless and kind—why, she’s simply a bajillion times more noble for rescuing me when she didn’t even know me! That’s more than you fellas with your constant teasing, and you’ve all known me since we were babies!” The blonde pouts as he soothingly rubs the front of his now tender neck when Craig finally lets go.

Cartman deeply sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth the crease in between his eyebrows. “Just shut the fuck up, Butters. Y/N’s not here for you to suck her apparently non-existent dick, you fucking kiss ass.”

“You guys are acting like a bunch of stupid virgins.” Craig is expressionless as they reach the back of the school where the loading bay is, the chullo-wearing teen leaning against the wall as he leisurely watches Kenny plop down on the asphalt and pull a bong out of his backpack.

“Says you! Why do you even care?! I thought you liked it up the ass, you goddamn cocksucker!” Cartman is quick to yell, shoving both his hands in his jacket’s pockets to generate more warmth against the freezing Colorado air.

“Nyah! We like girls, t-too!” Tweek says, glancing at his ex-boyfriend as the ravenette flashes a vulgar middle finger that he annoyingly sticks into the larger teen's irritated face.

“Now that’s just fucking greedy.” The brunette scoffs, roughly pushing Craig’s arm away as the ravenette savagely snickers.

“That’s rich coming from the selfish fatass who can eat three times his weight in one sitting. Wouldn’t want N/N to suffocate on a date with you when you can’t see her over your huge fucking double chin and accidentally sit on her.” Kyle snarks as he rolls his eyes while Stan wheezes and mimics having a makeshift double chin by angling his head as low as it can against his collarbones to make the skin bulge.

Cartman loudly retorts as he roughly pushes away the ravenette’s laughing face, “It’s funny you say that when you have a fat bitch mom yourself, Kahl! Tell me: did she keep pushing even when you were already out of her gaping pussy because she couldn’t see you over her saggy fucking tits?!”

“All of you are greedy assholes! You guys can’t be good bros just this once and let me have this one?” Clyde pouts, the brunette sliding his back down against the wall until he’s seated on top of the gritty surface of his skateboard.

“No.” Everyone simultaneously deadpans.

“Blah blah blah—okay, now who wants to say grace before I light this baby up?” Kenny smirks up at the guys as he packs a bowl, Stan snorting a laugh as he pushes the blonde on the arm when he hands him his lighter.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter who calls dibs when it’s Y/N who gets to decide who she wants to be with. You can’t force her into anything just because we’ve found out that she’s been a girl this whole entire time. She’s not an object for us to claim.” Kyle resolutely states when it doesn’t seem like a decision will be (peacefully) made, causing the redhead to resort to logic and sense.

“He’s got a point.” Tolkien mutters, the only one not fighting over you as he texts his long-time girlfriend Nichole Daniels.

“Oh, shut the hell up with your unicorns and rainbows pussy talk, you stupid fucking Jew! You’re only saying that sappy shit because you know that she won’t pick you even if you did get dibs!” Cartman retorts before dramatically pinching his nose when Kenny rips the bong and obnoxiously exhales the smoke into the brunette’s face.

“Aw, sick! Your low quality shit stinks!”

“Mmm, I think that’s just your upper lip that you’re smelling, fat boy. You do know that if you’re not properly dusting the crumbs off of your greasy mouth after every meal, the food will eventually go bad and rot.” The blonde lazily grins as he hands Craig the bong.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’d be best to just give her to me. Isn’t it less embarrassing for you guys if Y/N chooses me because I have dibs as opposed to her rejecting all of you, only to still like me because you’re all just ugly and boring?” Clyde pouts up at the guys, his body swaying from side to side as he rolls his skateboard in one place.

“Sorry Donovan—but I’m not letting a fine piece of ass like Y/N go without a fight, even if I have to fight a bro for her.” Kenny says as he leisurely watches Stan cough after taking a fat rip from the smoking device.

“Didn’t think you were the type to work for it, McWhoredick. With all the easy people you usually go for on the daily, I don’t think it’d be cool for you to just hit it and quit it like you usually do.” Craig straightens up from his previously laid back slouch against the wall, his clenched jaw slightly lifting up as he looks down at Kenny from his heightened stance.

The blonde takes that as a challenge as he stands up from the floor, his hands quick to shoot out and roughly shove at the ravenette. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that shit to Y/N.”

A hand grabs the material of Kenny’s parka at his elbow to stop the altercation from escalating even further, Tweek’s other hand tightly clutching onto the buttons of his top in anxiety. “I-I don’t know, dude… She’s our best friend, you know? That’d be really fucked up.”

Kenny rips his arm away from the other blonde and eyes every single person in the group with no trace of his usual carefree stance. “Seriously? Well I think it’s fucked up that you guys suddenly have feelings for her just because it’s been revealed that she’s actually a girl.”

And when no one says anything, the blonde scoffs. “I’ve always flirted with her since we were kids. Sure, I might have covered it up by passing it off as a lighthearted joke so that she couldn’t outright reject me, but it doesn’t make whatever I said to her less true.”

Kenny continues, “And I may be a ‘whore’ but I’m not a messy bitch who’d carelessly do shit like that with someone in our own damn friend group, especially to someone who means so much to me like Y/N. But let it be known: I was always transparent with how I felt and how cute I thought she was even when I thought she was a boy.”

And he was right—your earliest memories of being new in South Park were, naturally, of meeting new people. And when you talked to Karen McCormick for the first time during a day of playing your group’s fantasy game, she had told you right off the bat:

“Oh, hey! You’re the new kid! My sister, the princess, texted me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s… That isn’t true.” Stan hesitantly speaks up once the silence seemed to stretch on.

The area of skin between his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks away from the group to avoid looking at anyone's reaction to his words. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his teeth lightly nips away at his bottom lip in notable distress.

Kyle is visibly surprised at this revelation, “…Stan?”

The ravenette still doesn’t look over at his best friend or at anyone in the group, deeming the sight of the school’s janitor emptying out the trash a more interesting sight as he continues, “I uh—there was a time when I felt guilty. I thought I only liked girls but then I started seeing Y/N differently. It freaked me out because I was always into Wendy, y’know?”

Stan nervously mumbles, “I don’t know when it happened or how, but it was like I suddenly started noticing everything she did. My eyes kept automatically looking for her: to see her reaction when someone said or did something—if I could catch a glimpse of her rare smile or hear her quiet laughter. Even if there was nothing to see, I just liked to know that she was there and that she was okay.”

“No, I… I get it. Me too, actually.” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked when he finally looks over at Kyle, the redhead sporting a madly growing blush as his hand shyly rubs the back of his neck at his confession.

“What?! Yeah, right! Quit dickriding by copying your little boyfriend just to make him jealous!” Cartman yells out in disbelief.

“Shut the fuck up! It was…,” Kyle takes a moment to carefully think of the right term to eloquently express his feelings. “Confusing, right?”

He feels somewhat relieved and comforted when Stan silently nods in agreement, the gesture reassuring him and validating his experience as he feels more encouraged to speak up. “I didn’t know if the lines between platonic and romantic feelings were beginning to blur. I couldn’t tell if I was just mixing them up together or something but after some time, I figured that it didn’t matter because it was Y/N. And so, I was just satisfied as long as I had her by my side, even if it was as a friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone thinks to themselves, the air somber with only the sounds of the janitor rolling away the trash can being heard as he walks back into the warmth of the school building. The double door loudly closes behind him, blocking out the noise of students inside talking as silence once again pervades the area.

“Well, all this talk about feelings and shit is amazing and not in the least bit boring but I’ve never been confused with how I felt since I already knew I swung both ways. I’m only doing something about it now because you fuckers are going to go for her and like hell am I just going to let that happen without trying.” Craig interrupts, his eyes lingering on Tweek to let him know that he wasn’t afraid to make his ex his rival in this endeavor either.

“Yeah, cause we all know she’s only going to settle for one of you poor bastards if her first choice isn’t pursuing her.” Clyde boasts, his chest proudly puffed out as he points one of his thumbs at his smiling visage to indicate that he was the aforementioned 'first choice'.

Craig snickers at his unbridled confidence as he shoves the brunette and leans over to snatch the glass bong out of Stan’s hands to take another hit. As he lights the bowl, Kenny pushes the taller teen’s face away to inhale the smoke instead.

Cartman scoffs as he snarks the group, “You guys are a bunch of fucking simps. Did your feelings make all of you lame-o pussies? Or did all of your periods somehow sync up today?”

“Some friends we are—we never even noticed such a big thing about someone we claim to fucking like.” Stan bitterly laughs, forcing the guys to remember the small comments they ignorantly made to you when you were still kids:

Cartman: You know, you have kind of pretty hair for a boy. You better not be a hippie or something.

Jimmy: I thought feminine-looking guys went out of style in the 80’s, but the new kids pulling it off.

Clyde: You kind of have big raisins for a boy, New Kid.

Scott: I’ve never seen a boy with such soft skin, what’s your secret?

Butters: Hey, Butthole. Anyone tell you for a boy you’re kinda pretty?

Kenny: You kind of remind me of my sister—I have this weird urge to protect you.

Stan: You know, for a boy you’re kind of feminine New Kid.

Kyle: There’s nothing wrong with a boy being feminine, be true to yourself.

“How are you guys so sure that she even likes boys? You were wrong about her gender and you could be wrong about this too.” Wendy slyly says to the pondering group as she passes by, Bebe giggling at her companion’s words as the boys snap out of their reminiscing.

Before they walk away too far, the female blonde decides to further antagonize the guys as she sticks out a tongue at them. “Didn’t ya know? Wendy knew that Y/N was a girl since the day that she moved in and you stupid boys didn’t!”

Cartman’s mouth drops open as everyone watches the two walk away in disbelief, “That fucking bitch.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Sorry for keeping you from lunch, Douchebag! Ah, my bad. Can I still call you that or..?” Scott Malkinson says as he blushes in embarrassment (and for seeing the entirety of your newly revealed face up close for the first time), his hand going up to rub at the brown tufts of hair at the back of his head.

“I mean, no problem if you’re not comfortable with it or have always disliked it! You probably wouldn’t want to go by Buttlord and stuff anymore too…” He nervously mumbles to himself.

You just offer a small nod as your eyes soften around the edges, your hands busy with stapling the packet of papers holding the directions for your two-person research essay for your science class before handing it to him. There didn’t seem to be a point in pulling up your hood anymore (reminiscent of the way Kenny often did) when the boys finally figured out you were a girl.

Zipping open his backpack, you patiently watch as Scott tucks away the report’s instructions for safekeeping in a folder before he offers you a bashful smile. He softly knocks a fist into your arm, “Hey. I really am sorry for misgendering you this whole time. Girl or boy, you’ll always be my trusty sidekick. Right, superpal?”

“Woah there, Malkinson! You’re not tryna pull a fast one on our girl when we aren’t looking, are ya?” Your attention shifts at the sound of Clyde’s voice, an arm being thrown over your shoulders as he protectively pushes you against his body. “You sly dog, you!”

From your peripherals, you see the other guys walking to catch up to where you are as Stan locks an arm around your science partner's neck to put him into a headlock and roughly tousle his hair. You disinterestedly look away when Kenny comes up to you with a wide smile, the blonde reaching an arm out to dap you up in greeting as per usual.

However, instead of stepping back after your half hug, he pulls on your interlocked hands to take you out of Clyde’s clutches and keeps you against his chest. Kenny’s larger hands slowly settles themselves against the curves of your waist as he presses his smile against the column of your neck.

“Missed me, beautiful?” He says, his lips evoking a cacophony of goosebumps as they ever so slightly skim against the soft expanse of your skin after every word.

“Knock it off, bastard. She doesn’t need your rank breath and your dirty hands on her.” Craig angrily mutters out as he pulls you away, only for a pair of arms to sneak around your waist from behind before someone’s chin plants itself onto one of your shoulders.

Kenny scoffs, obnoxiously trying to put said hands onto the taller ravenette’s face. “Your poor people stereotypes don’t do anything to hurt me, Craigory baby!”

Your face is as expressionless as always as you turn to identify your newest captor, a pout on Butters’ face. “That’s not fair Ken, and you know it!”

“Hey, you assholes said it yourselves: I’m always like this. So I’m not quite sure what you’re accusing me of, Butters. Unless you’re projecting your own ulterior motives onto lil’ old me?” Kenny has a lazy smile on his attractive face as he crosses his arms behind his head.

You don’t get to lean your body into Butters’ hold for too long before you feel someone’s hand sneak into the crook of your arm, trying to pull you out of your surrounding warmth. When you see that it’s Tweek fidgeting by your side, you place a reassuring hand on his own as you assume that his anxieties are getting out of control and needed comfort.

“Ngh! Y-you all need to leave her alone!” He yells, swiftly turning over his hand so that he can interlock your fingers together.

“Don’t be nice to him, Douchebag! He’s just faking it so that you’ll feel bad! The whole ‘liking it up the ass’ thing? It was all a FUCKING ACT!” Cartman indignantly shouts as he tries to separate your hands from each other, the blonde barista trying his hardest to not let go.

“Fuck you, ack! It just d-didn’t work out between us!” Tweek defends himself as he tries to bite the brunette’s unrelenting hands off.

“I can see why! Neither one of you have pussies. As I said already: you’re a bunch of fake homos who did it for money and attention!” Cartman yells before he loudly yelps from the blonde’s teeth finally breaking through his skin.

“Sick, dude. You might want to get tested for HIV… Or rabies.” Kyle grimaces as he watches Tweek hurriedly spit into the nearest trash can.

“And don’t be an ignorant piece of shit, fatass. You can still be a girl and not have a vagina.” The redhead continues while crossing his arms.

“Meh meh meh.” Cartman mocks in a high pitched voice to which Kyle just stares back unamused, “Shut the fuck up, god! You’re talking to someone who was fucking transginger before! Of course I fucking know that! And have some goddamn tact next time, asshole—I was going through a lot of shit so it was a dark time for me back then!”

"Wh—You brought up you being transgender yourself, dumbass!"

Tolkien tiredly sighs at everything going on before handing Tweek his hydro flask to gargle its contents, a frenzied mantra of oh god’s being repeated between mouthfuls of water. He soothingly pats the blonde on the back as the barista bends over, hysterically heaving in panic while Kenny watches and cackles in amusement.

“Yeah, Y/N. You have an unnatural allegiance to losers.” Stan side eyes the two as he finally lets go of Scott, the brunette yelling out hasty goodbyes in order to escape the apparent arguing and to fix his messed up hair.

“Which is exactly why she keeps you around, Stanley.” Craig is quick to snark while he roughly pulls Cartman away from trying to get even with Tweek.

“Not true!” He yells.

Craig stares blankly at the protesting ravenette, “Uh-huh… Staniel, tell me: what medications are you on again?”

“For my depression? Uhh, Lexapro. I think. Why?”

“I think they need to switch you to the stronger shit or rediagnose you because right now, you’re being fucking delusional. We smoked the same shit just now so I know it’s not whatever strain Kenny has that’s fucking you up.” Craig dismisses, using his height to his advantage as he condescendingly pats Stan hard on the back of his neck and causes him to stumble.

“Oh fuck you—“

Kenny impatiently interrupts, the blonde pulling you away. “As much as I love me some fucking, let’s just go to lunch already! You guys can bitch all you want in the cafeteria—I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry though, poor ass.” Cartman mumbles as everyone starts to move.

“Fuck you, I’m stoned.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The lunch room is as noisy as ever from where you stand, your disinterested eyes looking around while your arms get recklessly tugged back and forth. You don’t pay any mind to the curious stares of any passerby and those sitting near your standing position as you’ve already grown used to the unwarranted attention your friends always seem to attract from their antics.

“N/N is sitting with me!” Clyde yells out to which the brunette emphasizes with a pull on the arm of yours that he's tightly hugging to his chest.

“She sat next to you yesterday when we went out and got pizza for lunch, you greedy asshole!” Kenny argues back as he resolutely plants his feet against the cafeteria floor, not budging from where your hands are intertwined.

“Not fair—I haven’t sat next to my buddy all week when we've eaten.” Butters pouts from where he stands in front of you as his hands grab hold of your jacket and his fingers mindlessly fiddles with the zipper of it.

With one last tug, Kenny guides you over to the group's designated table before the other two can react and offers a solution. “Here: my princess can just sit on my lap so that the both of you crybabies can still sit next to her.”

The blonde demonstrates by settling you over his thighs before he tightly locks his arms around your waist, sending a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the flabbergasted blonde and brunette still standing up. “There! Problem solved. Fuck, I’m a genius.”

Kyle rolls his eyes as he takes your tray of food in his unoccupied hand and places it on the table between his own and Stan’s, causing Kenny to pout when you stand up to sit where your lunch is. Once sat, you watch as the ushanka-wearing teen opens up the plastic holding your utensils before he hands you your spork.

“Y/N.” You blankly turn your head away from your food to face Clyde.

The brunette leans over the table to wipe a smidge of sauce that was left on your face with his thumb, his finger lingering at the edge of your lips. “You got something on your pretty face.”

Your eyes dart towards his finger when he pulls away to show you the hint of food he wiped off before you lean forward to lick it off of his finger for him. Clyde’s grin stretches impossibly wide across his face at your welcomed action, both of his elbows planting themselves on top of the table that he was still laying his stomach over as he cups his cheeks with his hands and brings his legs up to delightedly kick them back and forth like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“Fucking knock it off, Clyde!” The brunette yelps out of his daze when Craig grabs one of his swinging feet to roughly yank him off of the table.

“Dude.” Stan forlornly stares at his knocked over can of soda, the carbonated liquid thankfully spilling onto the floor and not on anyone’s clothes.

“You’re a fucking try-hard, you know that?!” Cartman yells as he fumbles to catch his opened pack of snacky cakes before they fall onto the dirty cafeteria floor from the other brunette’s actions.

Clyde is unable to verbally defend himself against the larger teen as he tries to hold his hand as close to his chest as possible while fending off Kenny with the other. While he gently cradles his appendage to his body, the blonde tries to get the prized finger to himself for a chance at an indirect kiss.

“Talk about desperate. You beg for sex like you beg for food, McCormick.” Craig mumbles as everyone watches the fighting pair in a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

“Wuh-what’s going on, fellas?” Jimmy asks as he takes a seat besides a stressed out Tolkien, the teen irritatedly rubbing his temples with his eyes closed to soothe the quickly growing headache he was developing.

“Jimmy! Finally, someone sane. I’m going crazy—they keep fighting over Y/N.”

“Competition? F-f-for what? They say girls love someone funny and I’ve already made Y/N laugh the most in the past!” The brunette proudly boasts before Tolkien bemoans the loss of who he thought was his only ally.

It's only the first day of school, the wealthy teen thinks to himself in dread as he begins to wonder if he should start sitting with Timmy instead.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Taking a sip of your chilled juice makes you slightly shiver, causing Stan to notice from his close proximity to you. Dusting off his hands together to take away any remnants of crumbs leftover from his brownie, the ravenette reaches over to zip your jacket up after he deems his hands clean enough to not leave a stain.

From the next seat over, Craig notices the interaction and what caused it so he takes it upon himself to place his beloved chullo on the top of your head. He reaches across from the front of Stan’s chest and in result, roughly pushes him away (he almost falls ass first out of the bench he's sitting on) as he takes care to ensure that both of your ears are properly covered.

The taller teen simply smirks when the ravenette glares at him for one-upping him—Craig’s hat providing additional warmth and even displaying a mark of possession that simply zipping up your outerwear couldn’t provide for other students to see. Their silent but heated stare-off gets interrupted when someone uses the earflaps from Craig’s chullo to forcibly turn your head to another direction.

“Douchebag, come over to mine after school. My mom got me that new video game we were talking about last week and you’d be a stupid loser to not be one of the first people in town to play it.” Cartman demands after he lets go of the soft material to resume devouring his lunch.

“No can do, fatfuck. Y/N already promised to go to my house so that we can do homework together.” Kyle interrupts with a self-satisfied grin on his face that only serves to make the brunette loudly slam his hands on the surface of the table in anger.

“Ooo, group study session at Kyle’s house after school?” Butters perks up at his own suggestion, an innocent grin adorning his face as he looks at everyone at the table for confirmation.

“Fuck you, I didn’t invite any of you bastards over except for her.”

“Ditch them, babe—Karen misses you! Why don’t you come over to my house instead so you can visit her?” Kenny jumps at the opportunity to speak up first after Kyle’s dismissal over Butters' self-invitation.

The boys see you visibly perk up as you straighten your back at the mention of the blonde’s younger sister, making Craig furrow his eyebrows together. “Fuck off. If there’s anyone that Y/N wants to see the most, it’s Stripe.”

Stan immediately scoffs as he pushes around his vegetables with his spork, the ravenette mumbling under his breath as his chin rests on his open palm. “I mean, at least he’s not using his own sibling as a cheap way to get her to visit. Not like I can do the same when I only have a bitch older sister at home.”

“Oh! How about a pet play date then! I can bring Rex!” Clyde excitedly contributes to Craig’s words, only for the ravenette to glare at him when they make eye contact.

"Wait, then I can bring Sparky—"

Kyle interrupts Stan before the conversation can escalate even further, “No! I already told my ma that Y/N is coming over so she’s making extra dinner.”

“Then there’s enough food for all of us to come over tonight.” Cartman says around a mouthful of chicken with an air of finality.

“That’d add another 30 servings on just you alone. So no, fatass, there isn’t enough food for you in my house or even in the whole entire goddamn grocery store that can satisfy the endless void that’s your fucking stomach.” Kyle argues back as his face contorts in disgust at the brunette’s lack of decorum at the lunch table, his hands quickly shooting out to shield both his and your lunch from any spit or stray bits of food.

“Aye!”

You patiently wait for him to take his hand away from where it’s hovering protectively over your tray but as you do, you get distracted from their bickering when Butters holds out a spoonful of his fruit cup. “Here, little buddy! I know how much you like this combination.”

Your eyes soften around the edges in thanks as you lean forward to eat it directly out of his spork, the blonde’s hand kindly waiting for you to chew before he pulls the utensil away and continues to eat his snack.

“Ack!” Tweek hurriedly fumbles to pour out a cup of still-warm coffee from his metal tumbler, his eyebrows furrowing in intense concentration as he tries to reign in his shaking hands to bring the portable cup up to your face for a sip without spilling.

Clyde watches in disbelief as you bring your body as close as you can from your seat at the table to drink the blonde’s offering, causing him to hurry with sticking a cheesy poof halfway into his mouth. “Here, N/N! Have some of this!”

Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees you starting to lean your face forward in the brunette’s direction, his hands shooting out to stop you from moving any further to give the brunette an opportunity for a kiss. “Y/N! No, goddammit!”

You blankly stare at the teen for interrupting before something moves in your peripherals, your eyes darting to the side to see Craig patiently holding out a chip towards you. As you turn your body towards his, he pulls it away from your face at the very last second.

“Sit next to me in class and I’ll give you a piece.” He smirks when you nod before taking a bite of the proffered snack out of his hand.

Kenny overhears and bitterly tsk’s to himself before placing a hand across the table with his palm facing up, his fingers wiggling as he also attempts to gain your favor through food. Your head cocks to the side at the action before you obediently place your hand on top of his, the blonde interlocking your fingers together as he brightly smiles at his success.

“Good girl.” He gently coos at you as he feeds you a piece of his cookie, his cerulean orbs watching you in endearment when you chew the dessert before he gives your linked appendages a soft squeeze.

Once eaten, the blonde uses his now unoccupied hand to pet the top of your head to which Stan sneers at. “Quit it, dude. She’s not one of your pet rats for you to coddle.”

“And what about me?! You fuckers never share any food whenever I ask!” Cartman slams both of his hands down onto the surface of the table (again), causing all of its seated occupants to roll their eyes as they settle their rattling cans of soda and water bottles from tipping over.

“You’re spouting bullshit—I’ve offered you food before.” Craig disinterestedly says as he takes the rest of Kenny’s cookie to prevent him from feeding you again and shoves it all in his mouth in one go.

“Only when you’ve dropped it on purpose and told me to eat it from the fucking floor if I wanted it so badly, you bastard!”

The ravenette merely shrugs, not seeing a fault in his actions as he pushes away the raging blonde trying to punch him. “Same thing. Bitches can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.”

At his words, the edges of your lips unconsciously quirk up into a small smile. It’s like Hell freezes over as everyone stops whatever they’re doing to get a glimpse of a sight so rare to see from your usually blank face.

“Quick! Take a picture! Take a fucking picture!” Clyde yelps at Kenny's demand as his hands fumble in their haste to rip his cellphone out of his jacket’s pocket.

You wonder to yourself why you’ve maintained the façade of being a boy when the dangers of the government trying to find you stopped being a threat so long ago. Maybe, you’ve unconsciously been trying to continue the lie because the person everyone thought you were when you were the "male Y/N" was the one that your friends already found themselves loving and enjoyed being around.

And who would take such a risky chance at changing such a beautiful thing like the precious friendship that this dysfunctional group of boys brought you?

But with the way that everyone is acting after the initial nerve-racking reveal of your true identity from this morning, you find it silly that you ever thought for a second that you might have disappointed your friends with who you really were. Because right now, as you see everyone around the table watching you with eyes that look at you as if you held the whole entire universe in just the palm of your small hands, you let yourself know that there was nothing to ever worry about.

At this thought, your smile slowly widens until a full set of pearly white teeth makes their appearance and a beautiful hue of pink paints the apples of your cheeks. This seemingly knocks any incoming words from leaving the boy's mouths as they watch in stunned silence.

You giggle over the din of chattering students in the cafeteria, causing the guys to lean even closer than before to hear the melodic sound of your rare laughter. “It’s beggars can’t be choosers, dumbfuck.”

a/n: ((i truly tried writing jimmy as a love interest because duh, it's not team craig without him!! but for the life of me, i cannot write him in fics & i really don't know why **sobs**))

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neo-novaa · 1 year

Text

bitter

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drunk confessions, .2 seconds of angst, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: part 1 of 2!! i swear i promise, i pinkie promise that part 2 will come out today

you don’t get jealous, ever.

it was your (albeit private ) defining feature. you were content with everything you had— no, beyond content: you were happy. you didn’t want anything else because you didn’t need anything else. you had a good family, enough money to keep you from debt, good friends, and even better academics.

so imagine your surprise when you get that bitter feeling boiling in your stomach at the sight of your “friend,” ethan landry, eyeing another girl.

you’re being very liberal with the term “friend,” but it’s only because you can’t think of a word to describe someone you’d been hanging out with for a few months, talking and treating them as a friend, but going home and imagining what it’d be like to fuck them senseless.

you’d probably call it a crush, but “friend” sounded much less embarrassing.

but it’s all going on at some stupid party for some stupid celebration you couldn’t care less about; all you wanted to do was get drunk enough to barely avoid a hangover. you went with your small group of friends, and eventually forced yourself to socialize once you had some juice in your system.

and it was when you were talking to some pretty girl from your liberal arts class when you saw him: leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand, eyes stuck on a girl in a halter top with patterned shorts to match— a girl standing right across from you.

and maybe it was something in the way his fingers were tapping on the plastic cup, or the twitching of his knee, or the way that he just refused take his fucking eyes off of her—

it set you off.

suddenly you found yourself at a table full of cheap bottles of booze, and your plastic cup was full, brimming with whatever concoction of cheap seltzer and even cheaper tequila you could find. soon enough, you were weaving and dodging your way through the sweaty masses to try and find an exit.

finally, after eons (three minutes) of searching, you managed to find yourself a door, and relished in the early spring chill that hit your skin.

you tried to drink and forget, seeing as though that was the whole reason you came out here. but no matter how much jungle juice you downed, you found your mind wandering back to him.

you couldn’t stop thinking about how ethan refused to look at anyone but her, how even when people greeted him, he waved them off without even looking at them. and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way she was dancing, as if she was born to do so, and how he wouldn’t stop fucking staring at her.

you weren’t jealous— you didn’t get jealous. this wasn’t jealousy, it was just…

just what, envy? envious of what? of some dork you’ve grown particularly fond of eyeing some random girl at this stupid frat party? of the guy you’ve been harboring a crush on for months staring at a girl he didn’t even know? of ethan landry, the boy you hadn’t stopped thinking of for months, thinking about anyone but you?

no, you weren’t envious. what could you possibly be envious of?

“what are you doing out here?”

you jump at ethans voice, beginning to feel particularly sluggish— when did your cup get so light? as a matter of fact, when did it get empty?

“i could ask you the same thing,” you say, finding it increasingly difficult to formulate words.

“it got too sweaty and crowded in there,” he sits down next to you, bringing his arms close to his torso at the sudden cold breeze. “i always forget how much i hate coming to these parties.”

“then why do you keep coming?” you raise the cup to your lips, frowning when you remember its lack of contents.

he doesn’t say anything.

“is it because of a girl?” you see him tense from the corner of your vision, however foggy it may be.

ethans shaking his head. “what makes you say that?”

you shrug, carefully placing the cup by your feet. “i saw you looking at her,” his shoulders drop, and you can’t help but feel something in your chest drop too. “she’s really pretty, i think i have a few classes with her.”

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about.” he feigns ignorance, the coward.

“come on ethan, don’t pretend to be stupid, i know you’re smarter than that.” a chill runs down your spine, you tell yourself its not from the sudden realization of your close proximity to him, but instead because of the cool air around you.

“wait, are you…” he turns to you. “are you jealous?”

you scoff. “jealous? i don’t get jealous e—than,” you hiccup between the syllables of his name.

“you know, i have a tendency to misread situations, but you…” he pauses to take a dramatic breath. “you seem really jealous.”

“okay, sure but…why would i be jealous, hm? it’s not like i make the rules on what girls you can and can’t look at.” you’re staring into his eyes. those wonderful, beautiful, adjective-ful eyes that make you want to start screaming and shaking and crying and throwing up.

you can’t stop looking at his eyes, and you can feel your gaze flitting between the two.

you want ethan to quip back with something sharp and cleaver, but he doesn’t. he just turns away from you, shrugs, and keeps on nursing the drink in his hand.

for a moment, you feel guilty, another feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. maybe that made you a good person, or maybe that just made you a socially inept asshole.

you don’t know why you feel guilty, but you suspect it has something to do with how silent ethan is, or how his brows are leaning with regret, or how his shoulder are slumped much more than they were a second ago.

“i wasn’t looking at her,” ethan mutters, breaking your shared silence. “i was…looking at someone else.”

you want to curse him out because, really, why did it matter if he was looking at another girl? it was someone who wasn’t you, and that’s all that mattered.

“i don’t care ethan, it’s not that serious—” you cut yourself off when you turn to him, frozen in how quickly you drown in his puppy dog eyes.

and then it hits you.

he wasn’t looking at that girl, he was looking at someone else.

he was looking—

“at you.”

oh.

you want to say something, you really do. in any other situation, if it played out exactly like this but minus the alcohol, you’d be able to come up with some poetic ass speech about love and devotion and life—

but you’re drunk, and you can’t think. you don’t want to think.

so instead, you act.

instead, you kiss him.

your hands are grasping at his shirt and you’re kissing him hard. you don’t care if it’s sloppy or bad, you just care that you’re kissing him.

and, obviously, ethan cares too.

because in a moment, one of his hands are brushing the crook of your neck, and his other arm is shaking around your waist. you know your breath tastes like black cherry white claw and dollar store tequila, but with the way ethan was kissing you, it was as if you were the best thing he’d ever had in his life.

it’s like he’s starving— as if he’s been waiting for this for months. and you wonder, passively, if he’d been pining for you all this time as well. you want to ask him, but asking him would mean you’d have to stop kissing him, and at this point you’d rather die than have that happen.

so you’re quick to pull yourself onto his lap, stradding one of his thighs. you’ve just started to work with the hem of his shirt and god just feeling his v-line makes you dizzy— but ethan pulls away, and you feel your jaw slack at the sight of his lust-blown pupils and spit-kissed lips.

“as much as i want this to happen,” you note how heavy he’s breathing. “i really wouldn’t want to have sex with you on the front steps of a house party.”

you’re standing up with a curt nod, pulling ethan by the hand as you back up.

“also my room is like, twelve minutes away—”

“my house is just down the block, and my roommates are gone for the weekend.”

ethan glances towards the direction that you gestured in, and nearly trips over his shoes as you start walking towards it.

“yeah, that actually sounds perfect.”

all the way home, neither one of you can stop imagining what it’s going to be like to get fucked senseless.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader smut #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream vi #scream 6 #✧. ┊ scream !

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agustdiv1ne · 10 months

Note

hii congrats on 3k you deserve it!!! i love your works so much you're one of my favorite writers here <3 can i request for the event yeonjun + howl's moving castle + fluff and smut ? love you <3

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, smսt

wc: 3.2k

details + warnings: minors + blank/ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked, yeonjun as howl (take these two pics for reference,, phew), mc as sophie (but no defining physical features are described besides silver hair), this takes place after the events of the movie aka flying castle era, light dom/sub dynamics, vv soft sex, oral (f receiving), they are so in love it's sickening honestly

notes: starting this event off strong with one of my ults paired with one of my favorite movies...*visibly quaking* and ilyt nonnie <3 you're the sweetest

humming to yourself, you amble down the cobblestone path of a town far from the one that you once considered home. your dress brushes against your legs as you continue forward, the soft fabric rustled by a cool, gentle breeze characteristic of spring. above, clouds drift about the cerulean sky, the sun's rays gentle and warm where they kiss your skin. you soon spot the door that you had first emerged from when you had set out to complete a handful of errands earlier in the afternoon.

your focus on the door falters at the mouth watering scent wafting from a nearby stall, something saccharine and warm. perhaps one more stop is in order, you find yourself thinking as you part from your original path. your feet lead you over to the older woman overseeing the small stand surrounded by other passersby nibbling at the sweets she sells. the crow's feet around her eyes appear when she smiles at you, her chin-length hair a similar silver hue to your own.

“hello, my dear,” she greets, her voice soft and worn with time. as she continues, her hands work in tandem to package some of the treats that had lured you over. “how may i help you?”

you offer her a polite smile while you request four of the small, half-moon pastries filled with molasses-rich sugar and chopped nuts. steam rises from the ones that have just finished cooking, ready to be packaged for awaiting customers. she nods at you, smiling, as she quickly wraps up and hands the fresh ones off to a woman and her two young children to your left. the youngest hums in delight once he takes a bite, and the three of them head off down the road.

“your hair is quite beautiful, dear,” she says, the twinkle in her eyes signifying the truthfulness of her words as you place the correct amount of coins into her awaiting palm. “i’ve never seen someone so young with such a shade. it suits you well.”

“oh, thank you! that is very kind of you to say,” you reply, your soft voice imbued with surprise. while most do not comment, you have witnessed firsthand the gawking and stares of judgement that your hair has garnered in your travels. the hue is a reminder of the curse you once endured, but the fond memories it brings forth far outweigh any negative reactions you have received thus far. warmth fills your chest at the compliment.

she wraps and hands you your own pastries seconds later. bowing your head slightly, you voice your gratitude before you realize she has given you one extra. you attempt to hand one back to her, the others tucked into the basket hanging off of your arm. “ma’am, i believe you may have given me one too many—”

“nonsense,” she winks, pushing your hand back towards you. “consider it a gift.”

guilt swirling in your stomach, you try to hand her another coin. however, she refuses, shooing you away from her stand with well-wishes of safe travels. with a final shallow bow and kind words in return, you depart from the stall, your steps light and springy.

embarrassingly giddy after the sweet interaction, you scurry down the street much quicker now, eager to return home. home — it is what you used to call your family's hat shop, but now...now, home is what you call yeonjun, his youthful apprentice, kai, calicfer, heen, even the witch of the waste. they are your home, and nothing could ever exceed the joy that that truth brings you.

you remove one of the pastries from your basket, unwrapping it to take a bite, eyes widening at the sweet, syrupy taste that coats your tongue. delicious is the sole word that comes to mind. the warm delicacy only serves to heighten your mood, and it is long gone before you even reach your destination. you are tempted to reach for another, but decide against it. a hand wraps around the knob and twists, and suddenly, you are no longer in the town, but soaring high above in yeonjun's — and now, too, your own — flying castle.

“i’m home!” you call as you enter, using the heel of your boot to swing the wooden door closed behind you. though he is no longer confined to the hearth, calcifer sits there anyway; it has become habit after his years bound to yeonjun.

“oh, look who’s decided to come back!” he exclaims, flames growing brighter at the sight of you. “yeonjun’s been sulkin’ in his room since ya left — i’ve been dyin’ of boredom out here!”

you breathe a laugh at calcifer’s dramatics, looking for the young boy who is usually around when you return. “where is kai?”

“out. more magical apprentice-y tasks to do, i guess,” he replies, inspecting you as you set the basket down with pursed lips. “why the long face?”

“i got him a sweet from a stall, and it’s still hot,” you hum, beginning to place the produce and other items that you purchased onto the table. “i suppose you will have to warm it up for him later.”

“do i look like some kinda servant?” he asks, indignant. he continues to ramble about his now free status and how he doesn’t need to listen to you while you continue to remove items from your basket, placing the four remaining pastries to the side.

huffing, you finally wave the firewood you had bought for him. “how about now?”

calcifer gasps at the sight, his small arms appearing to beckon you over. he scoffs, “alright, c’mon, i’ll do it. should’ve just said you had that first.”

you swiftly gather a decent amount of wood in your arms and head over to him, handing him one after another to greedily chomp down. with each one, he grows a bit larger, brighter, his glowing yellow center expanding.

“at this rate, i’ll start likin’ ya better than yeonjun,” the fire demon claims through a mouthful of lumber, snatching another piece from the now dwindling pile that you hold.

“you already do, just admit it,” you quip, grinning down at him.

“admit what?” an inimitably deeper voice asks. head whipping around, you find yeonjun leaning against the doorway, lips quirked up in a smirk with his arms folded across his broad chest. a loose, white blouse envelopes his torso and is tucked into primly tailored trousers.

“oh, nothing for you to fret over,” you tease, well aware that he likely heard the vast majority of the conversation. he tuts, striding over to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, his chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you present calcifer with the final piece of wood from your makeshift heap. the ends of his hair tickle your skin. he hums something low and quiet, pressing his soft, plump lips against your neck. calcifer, in turn, emits a nauseated heave.

“if ya gonna act all lovey dovey around me, i’ll just leave,” the ball of flame huffs, beginning to float in the air.

yeonjun chuckles, his arms pulling you tighter against him. “no need. i was meaning to steal this one away from you, anyway.”

“oh, great! just wonderful!” he sneers, sinking back down to the stone hearth and glowering at the man who leads you back towards the doorway. “spare my ears while ya at it!”

once you are alone, yeonjun wastes no time in pressing you against his silken bedsheets. he balances himself above you with a single forearm, his hips tucked between your parted thighs and hiked up dress. his lips waste no time in enveloping your own. slow, languid — he takes great care in savoring you, ensuring that you are as close as possible with his free hand cupping your cheek. his cheeky tongue slips into your mouth to curl against yours, causing you to exhale a muffled whine.

before you are able to slide your hands up his shoulders and around the back of his neck, he pulls away. staring up at him, you find chestnut eyes brimming with adoration. the sight of his disheveled hair and shiny, kiss-bruised lips sends flurries of butterflies through your stomach.

"“you taste so sweet, love,” he murmurs as he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. his words dissipate the heady fog creeping into your mind, and you reach up to grab his hand.

“the pastries!” you exclaim with wide eyes. attempting to sit up, you gently push him back onto his knees. you catch the furrow of his brow, the pout forming on his lips, and you move to explain. “i purchased pastries for us to try while i was out — the stall owner even gave me one more for free! isn’t that delightful?”

yeonjun blinks. hard. how you are whining into his mouth one moment and growing distracted by sweets the next is quite beyond him, but it nonetheless causes an endeared smile to pull at the corners of his lips.

“you should try it while they’re still hot! i’ll go fetch one for you,” you continue, mistakenly taking his grin for excitement. swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stand and begin to scurry over to his bedroom door, him rising from the bed going unnoticed.

despite your newfound goal, your lover does not allow you to stray too far, catching you by the waist and pulling you back against him. his fingers weave together against your stomach, locking you in his embrace, unable to wriggle away.

“don’t leave me,” he pleads, and though you are unable to see it from your position, his tone betrays the pout that he sports. “i feel as if we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“i’ve only been away for a few hours. you have survived much longer,” you giggle, reaching up to run your fingers through his onyx hair while he kisses up your neck, nipping the skin where you are most sensitive. you allow a quiet moan to escape, a shuddered breath following soon after when he does not halt his ministrations. attempting to pry his hands off, you say, “i’ll be just a minute, if you would let me go.”

whining in protest with his nose nuzzled against your jaw, his grip grows ironclad, the space between your bodies diminishing — and that is when you feel it: the hardness that presses snugly against your rear. heat floods your cheeks at the realization, and your struggle to escape comes to an abrupt end. “love, the pastry—”

“i’ll try it later. i’d much rather taste you at the moment,” he interrupts, voice low and breathy against your ear. the sheer desperation in his voice causes heat to pulse in your center.

he pulls you back to bed with ease, aiding you in your descent to the sheets. his hands bunching the skirt of your dress up reveals your stocking-clad legs, the fabric squeezing the meat of your thighs in a way that causes him to gulp. he slips his body between your legs, a position reminiscent of mere minutes ago, taking his time in running his hands up and down sensitive skin of your inner thighs, traveling dangerously close to your covered center. goosebumps raise beneath his fingers as a shiver slinks down your spine.

while his actions are drenched in admiration mixed with a soft sense of desire, it is too much for you to bear. overwhelmed with bashfulness, you hide your face in your hands. above you, your lover tuts, as if dissapointed with your choice. prying your hands away, he gathers your wrists and presses them into the bed above your head.

“keep your hands there,” he orders, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with need. “or else i will stop.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest at his order, but you nod nevertheless. he simpers at your obedience.

“that’s my girl.”

and suddenly the desire to melt into a puddle washes over you. the words bring you back to the first day that you had encountered him; when he had saved you from two sleazy soldiers, flew you over the town square and helped you to a balcony before disappearing. that day, you had no inkling of just how drastically your life would change. how fate has landed you here, below that very man, in love with him...you have expressed your gratitude to whatever it is above countless times.

truly, you never thought of yourself to be one for praise, but your time with yeonjun thus far has unlocked a myriad of preferences you had never given a second thought to before. as the words echo in your head, you bite your lip to muffle a tiny whine.

chuckling, he lowers himself onto his stomach so that he is eye level with your center. a finger skates over the seam of your panties, sliding up your slit to press against your awaiting bud. all the while, his plump kiss and suckle their way up your thigh until he's nosing at the crease of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds. pulling away, he helps you slip the thin, soaked fabric from you with teasing touches until you are bare from the waist down, sans your stockings.

at the sight of your glistening core, he licks his lips, taking in the way you clench around nothing. you feel terribly exposed, like a sculpture in the center of a gallery, unable to hide. he coos at your trembling state. ever so sensitive, his little doe, even after so long. holding you open, his gaze travels back up past your heaving chest to your flustered face.

“eyes on me, sweetheart. want you to watch me.” he locks his gaze with yours as he dips down to trace your folds with tongue, reveling in the way your brow furrows and your lips part, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a moment. yeonjun is nothing if not a tease, however; he continues to repeat the same movements until you are battling with the urge to snap your eyes shut and burrow your head into the sheets, until you are pleading with him for more. conceding, he dips down to your entrance only to moan at your taste. yes, this is what he has been craving all day. his tongue dips inside for a moment before he licks a bold stripe up to your clit, his eyes fluttering closed while he takes his time in working you up. you cry out as the tip of his tongue slides under the hood, toying with the tiny bundle of nerves with practiced confidence. his lips do not stray far behind, wrapping around and sucking hard, basking in the choked moan you emit in response.

but it's not enough.

he pulls away for a moment, hands squeezing your thighs. when you finally meet his gaze, he finds tears lining your bottom lashes, little dewdrops that cause your eyes to shine brighter.

“sing for me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft and hypnotizing. “as loud as you desire. when we’re in this room, no one can hear you but me.”

then, without waiting for your foggy brain to register his words, he dives back in with increased vigor, his lone goal being to make you fall apart, to cause you to let go those silly inhibitions that keep you as quiet as a mouse. he is more than pleased at the cries that follow.

while he loses himself in tasting you, you are falling apart. white-hot pleasure burns in the center of your stomach, a fire that grows hotter and brighter and causes you to grip the sheets harder with paled knuckles. it winds around you and spreads across the entirety of your being. with a mist-shrouded mind, all you can do is take what he provides, grinding against his lips. despite his warning from earlier, you reach down to thread your fingers through his hair and tug. this, evidently, sets him off; more beast than human, he devours you whole. he wants — no, needs your release. cum for me, darling, please cum for me — an unspoken plea, conveyed by his zealous tongue and lips, his grip on your thighs nearly bruising. and you listen, you listen so well despite his silence, the pleasure building and building and building and—

you shatter.

wailing, a supernova of pleasure overwhelms your body and soul, hot tears rolling streaming down your cheeks. your body no longer has a beginning nor an end — you feel as though you are floating above the bed rather than laying upon it, looking down at yourself, at the man betwixt your thighs, the care with which he extracts every drop of pleasure from your center, the patience he exudes while he delivers you back down to your true existence, back to him.

slowly, so very slowly, you return back to yourself, weary eyes fluttering open to find him hovering above you. his pupils hold profound concern, the rhythmic circling of his thumb against your cheek soothing to your mind. he's frowning, and you can see the gears spinning inside his head, wondering if he had finally gone too far.

“jjunie,” you whisper with an exhausted yet lovesick grin, pulling him close so that your foreheads press together — and with the melodic sound of your endearing nickname for him, the doubt, the guilt, festering deep in his chest vanishes. you spend a few moments gazing at each other, and you use the edge of your nail to trace his beauty marks while you bask in the presence of one another; just you and him, him and you.

leaning up, you capture his lips, something soft and sweet and unhurried that causes your heart to pound against your ribcage. the heart — it can be such a fickle thing, always changing, always setting its sights on shiny, new things. yes, it can be quite fickle, but nothing can dispute the undeniable truth of your eternal, immutable love for yeonjun, and his for you. you may change your routines and what you eat and the tunes you sing, but your love is forever frozen in time. “find me in the future,” is what you once exclaimed to him, and he had done just that — and so, so much more.

despite your exhausted mind, you find yourself craving more. the hardness of his cock presses into your thigh, and you grind slightly into him. he stares down at you, lips parted, silently inquiring if you are okay: are you sure you would like to continue? it's a wordless exchange, the way you reach down to stroke him over his trousers, the cheeky bite of your lip. with that, the mischievous grin he wore previously returns.

“you’re absolutely insatiable,” he laughs, returning his lips to your neck.

“oh, please. you were the one who wanted this in the first place,” you tease back before you’re squealing at the sound of ripping fabric. “yeonjun!”

“i shall mend it later,” he shrugs, eyes darkening as he greedily takes in your now bare bosom. “right now, however, there are much more pressing matters.”

perhaps the pastries can wait a wee bit a longer.

3k event masterlist | main masterlist

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #agust.nsfw #3k milestone celebration #💌 — jjun

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carpenoctem-if · 2 months

Text

Carpe Noctem - Intro Post

DEMO - tba

You are a nobody. A supposedly ordinary human in a world full of powerful beings. Your life is all in all pretty average if not bordering on mind-numbing, like watching paint dry... That is until you were kidnapped and tossed into one especially small carriage to be delivered somewhere only the ancients knew of.

From now on nothing will ever be the same and you need to adapt to the ever-changing outside world as fast as possible. All the while trying to decipher your past and with that your part in an every-growing political conflict that borders to develop into an all out war the world has yet to see.

General content warnings: Bigotry & prejudice, horror elements, interspecies awkwardness, explicit language, depictions of violence, injuries, blood and death, explicit sexual content (if selected), flashbacks of a dark past to unveil, sprinkled with some homophobia here and there & general an unfair treatment of people with disabilities.

FEATURES

-> customizable MC (name, pronouns, appearance, identity)

-> semi-set personality due to evolve (MCs reclusive upbringing forces you to start as someone that's not entirely comfortable with other people and as such you'll be able to choose coping mechanisms your MC will use to compensate such a deficit)

-> 5 characters to romance (3 in book 1, not sure if the other two will follow, they'll probably be fully romanceable in book 2)

-> POVs of the ROs included

-> an open-minded author that is inclined to change some NPCs to fully fledged ROs depending on the general opinion/wishes of readers

-> an emotional roller coaster, all in all nothing for ppl that want a light-hearted theme

-> later on you'll be able to choose part of your race (vampyres, merpeople, demons, shapeshifters, phoenixes -and many more) & with that you can determine and further develop your special skillset. Your heritage will reward you with quite different flavour texts for every possible race there is, so yes. It will matter greatly what you chose. And each of the available races will have disadvantages that could prove quite...fatal in certain situations.

romanceable characters:

the master [Alois|Alice|Alix] (m|f|n) 24 winters

An aloof demeanor at the first glance, A has a cold, strangely shrouded gaze. They're reclusive as fuck, so there isn't much the general population knows about them. Oh. And A is your esteemed master -as if any of you actually want this dynamic... A seems to hate you and your position even more, especially the hidden context it supplies to everyone they meet...

A has almond-shaped silver eyes that always seem distant and unfocused. They have defined cheek bones with mostly soft facial features and quite long, silver hair that is often tied to a simple ponytail. A wears fine dark clothing without other prominent features to despict their wealth.

Content warnings for A's route: denial of feelings aka one of the slowest burns imaginable, domestic violence, implied/referenced rape/non-con, anxiety attacks, self-harm, angst & hurt/comfort

the protector [Leto] (m|f|n) too many to count

Leto is a raven-like creature most would describe as monstrous-looking. They are rarely seen and the few moments they are, death is certain. For many commoners it's enough to see one of Leto's black feathers to warrant a swift escape.

Their past eludes them and you have to wonder - why does some antics of them seem kinda...familiar?

Content warnings for Leto's route: survivor-guilt, body dysphoria, angst, captivity & enslavement, torture, ptsd

the assassin [Zane|Zoey] (m|f) 28 winters

Z is everything their mother wanted them to be. Her own personal weapon. One she is now inclined to use for her vendetta against you.

They have dark brown hair with intelligent hazel green eyes that seem to observe their surroundings constantly. Z was raised with stories about you, stories you know nothing about. How can it be that they seem to know more of you and your family than you yourself?

Should it worry you that they sound extremely resolute in stating their sole purpose is to rid the world of your existance?

Content warnings for Z's route: enemies to frenemies to lovers, eating disorder, alcohol-addiction, a tendency of morbid jealousy, past emotional abuse & manipulation

??? [redacted]

??? [also redacted]

more info tba

Small note of the author:

Everything is slow burn in this - even the character customization, cause I want to add those moments seamlessly into the story.

I tend to take my time. You can expect me to heavily focus on the characters and their feelings, with a slight disregard to describing the environment and such. I work with minimalistic efforts to still give a sense of what I imagine everything to be but with the intention to leave fine details to the reader's own imagination.

I'll try to be considerate of everyone's preferences, especially in the more kinky parts of the story. There'll be versions for more assertive characters as well as more passive one's. Though I should add that the ROs all have their own set of bias that they prefer. However there will be growth throughout the story, including that.

The gravity of your choices will intensify throughout book 1, especially as you get to know the Circle and the Court and every other political hive of intrigue.

And yes. You can die. The ROs can die. Almost everyone will be able to at some point, I guess. Though I don't like the idea of writing a total distopia, don't expect me to change my mind regarding that one that easily.

More infos will be added over time. I'll post lore snippets of my sketchbook soon, like the worldmap, the general outlines of the Circle & the Court, the different races and such.

Asks are welcomed.

#interactive novel #interactive fiction #wip if #choicescript #lgbtqia

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444rockstargf · 6 months

Text

kinktober day 15.

10.29 - BODY WORSHIP | OLLIE SWAY!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @bub0nic-plague @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish @oliviah-25 @bl1ssfulbaby

previous: 10.27 - EXHIBITIONISM!

female!reader x ollie

word count: 1.0k

contents: body worship, praise

ollie was perched on his bed, his adoring gaze glued to you as you stood before him. it was far past midnight, but sleep wasn’t on his agenda for tonight. pale moonlight seeped into the room through the thin curtains, glistening against the white, silky fabric of your little nightgown. you stood there shyly, hands behind your back with your legs crossed as he drooled over your perfect figure.

his erect cock conspicuously pressed against his loose blue jeans, but he chose to only focus on you. his eyes travelled up your body slowly, stopping at your thighs, hips, waist and chest before finally landing on your eyes, which were boring into his desperate little soul. his pupils had swallowed his striking blue irises, altogether drinking you in.

you were just a foot away from him, but you just seemed so ethereal with beauty that couldn’t be grasped that he felt as if he was worlds away from you. you were effortlessly alluring, drawing him in with every breath you took. ollie lifted a hand slightly before stopping himself, reconsidering his action.

you looked so fragile and delicate, an angelic aura radiating off of you. it was as if his bare hands shouldn’t be able to have the privilege to touch you. his fantasies drifted as his gaze deepened, him imagining your soft, perfect lips around his aching shaft. you slowly closed the gap between you two, gently sinking down to his lap, keeping your toned legs on either side of him.

his breath hitched as his fingertips came into contact with your bare thigh, your soft skin bringing him back to reality while simultaneously taking him even further away from it. his stare fell down to your parted legs, seeing the way the thin cloth around your body left just enough of you hidden for the imagination.

the gown teasingly crawled higher up. he gently placed his hands onto each one, massaging soft circles onto your skin with his thumbs. he looked up at your face, instantly sending a rush of blood right to his flushed cheeks. the sombre lighting in the room highlighted all your perfect features.

your smooth skin was dusted with the pale glimmer of the moonlight. your long eyelashes framed your tantalizing eyes, the hairs casting shadows underneath them. his soul had left his body, causing him to feel a high that he hadn’t known he’d been craving his whole life. you snaked your elegant fingers to his defined biceps, caressing his soft skin.

your gentle touch seemed to snap him out of his compulsive gaze, a lovesick grin tugging at his lips. he brought his lips to your ear, his words sounding as smooth as honey. “you’re so perfect.” he paused for a moment. “no. that word seems too platitude to describe you. i don’t believe there’s any word strong enough to describe how you make me feel.”

his hands began to travel underneath the fabric, him being able to feel your body without the interruption of underwear in his way. you brought your hands down to the rim of the nightgown, slowly pulling it off your body. you slipped it off, tossing the lifeless mass of silk to the ground as he gawked at you.

he writhed slightly, the burning sensation in his core growing at a rapid pace. there you were, in your simplest form but somehow making his mind come up with concepts that he had never imagined before. for all he was concerned, you were a goddess.

his eyes moved down to your breasts, each one mirroring the other with every precise curve. your hard nipples stuck out, signalling your neediness. he looked at your waist, moving down to your hips where your bodies were connected. his arms slithered around your waist, him burying his face into your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

soft, barely audible moans slipped from your mouth. each noise that you made seemed to make his addiction to you grow even stronger. he peppered kisses all over your neck, the sloppiness of them moving down to your collarbone and chest. he muttered tiny little praises as his curious lips wandered up and down your chest.

“you are absolutely heavenly…” he gently flipped you around, setting you comfortably on your back as he sat in between your parted legs, his kisses moving to your thighs. he gave each one a gentle squeeze, the softness of them granting his body with sensations that couldn’t be captured with words.

being around you filled him with such euphoria. it was an ecstatic feeling that nothing else could ever come close to. he deeply kissed your legs, allowing his hands to roam the masterpiece that was your body. he was still reeling over the fact that he had you all to himself right now. that truly was a blessing.

he had become so drunk on your presence that he was completely oblivious to the way his hips bucked into the mattress, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure. though you couldn’t make out the little things he said, you could feel the depth that his words carried. “you must’ve been sculpted by the gods…”

he feasted on your soft skin, his pecks leaving tiny marks in his tracks. “i want to be with you forever. ‘til death do us part, my dear…” he seemed so content with just being with you at this moment. he was overwhelmed with the abundance of your perfection.

he felt greedy for thinking of fucking you. having sex with you was a concept too divine for him. he recognized it in its purest form, truly understanding it and wanting nothing more than to put you on the altar of his love and respect, putting his heart, soul, mind, body, spirit and every cell in his body into drawing out pure divinity onto you, treating you like the work of art that he made you out to be.

author's note: one more fic to go! thank you all so so much for all the love and support and helping me get to 500!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #ollie sway #the song of sway lake #body worship #kinktober #halloween #october #grunge #lana del rey #444rockstargf

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terror-slut · 2 years

Text

Change of Heart // Peter Ballard

Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.

Updates are not according to a set schedule.

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Prefer to read this fic on AO3? Click here!

You can listen to the Change of Heart playlist here.

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nanamimizz · 1 year

Text

tags: fluff, after the 4th great war, reader is described as being shorter than shikamaru, smoking, drinking, reader wears shikamaru’s clothes - let me know if i missed something!

synopsis: love is seen in the smallest of moments, when its just you and the other - alone.

loving shikamaru is built upon the smallest of moments.

when he murmurs into your ear at the table - “going out for a smoke, i’ll be back.” his box of cigarettes and his lighter tap against the table. you can’t help but shiver from his breath dancing along your neck. you smile, cheeks bitten and hot but he blames it on the cold outside and the warn inside. he gives a blushing smile when you tell him you’ll save him a plate.

his cigarette is half way out when you find him, stumbling past the door a slight stumble in your step. he’s at your side faster than you’d expect asking what’s wrong, hands griping your shoulders to steady you. in return you only laugh, rubbing your temples.

“kiba challenged me to chug a pint but then my head started spinning so sakura said to get some fresh air.” you explain and he sighs, exasperated but fond. you’ve always had a habit of not being able to say no when asked to do something. he shakes his head muttering about how kiba is a bonehead and you giggle breathlessly.

his gaze softens at the sound, eyes fond at how you smile softly if not a little wobbly. happiness looks lovely on you, shikamaru can’t help but think.

he blinks as he mulls over his recent thought, tucks away its implications and focuses in the light conversation you begin - you hiccup slightly in between each couple words and he fonds that rather being annoyed by its interruption; he can’t help but find it cute.

he bites the inside of his cheek and marks the tally.

you shiver as a brisk breeze passes over - its fall and heading into winter. he recalls how you’ve always been sensitive to the cold. he calls your name without thinking and before he can rationally process it, he’s zipping off his vest and handing it to you. you’re eyes are wide and shining under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant sign.

“here, i don’t want you freezing on me.” he keeps his tone light but even he sweats under the weight of your stare. smiling bashfully and tucking your chin to your chest, you take the vest and sling it on. the dark green material is warm from his body heat - despite his lean build shikamaru has always run warm. its long on you; he can’t help but huff amused at how the bottom of the zipper hits lower than your waist. he comes closer to you, brings his hands to the collar and pulling out the large pieces of your hair that had gotten stuck underneath the thick collar of the vest.

it’s oddly intimate - he’s smoothing your hair down, and zipping up the vest. he lets his hands run down the slope of your shoulders and his hands come to rest on your biceps. shikamaru swallows. realizing he’s so close to you that he can see the faint mole at the bottom of your lip, the birthmark on your nose and the small gap of hairs in your left eyebrow.

“how do you feel now?” he asks, voice tentatively and soft. he feels like a kid again, seeing the deer of the nara woods with his father for the first time. he can see how your lashes link together when you blink and you look back up at him, he’s grateful for the height difference between you to in this moment. shikamaru can see everyone of your most defining features - he finds them all to be as beautiful as the reflection of the night sky found on the top of a lake.

“my head feels clearer, and i’m a lot warmer now.” you reply, honestly and your eyes flicker away. you are like a doe he thinks, gentle in your approach and demure in your observation. he nods.

“that’s good. want to head in now?” he asks. he half hopes you say no so he can stay here with you just for a little longer. he can smell your perfume - like how you hands smell like the oranges you peel on a hot summer day, and he wonders if you’ll be as sweet as those memories.

“y-yeah, we should. they might be wondering where we are.” you say and he can’t help but agree. he lets go off you, letting his hands trail a little longer and he coughs into his hand. when you go to unzip his vest he stops you.

“it’s okay. keep it until you feel warm enough.” he tells you, looking away and scratching at the back of his neck. shikamaru wonders if you can see his pink cheeks and fights back the embarrassment he feels in his chest if you can.

“besides, it…it looks good on you. just give back at the end of the night.” he finishes with a thin smile and you laugh into your hand at his sheepishly given compliment. you nod, agreeing and watching him with warm cheeks as he heads in first. as he enters back into the restaurant you thumb at the dark green material of the vest.

against your better nature, you bring your nose to the collar and sigh at the scent of pine wood and the hint of cigarette smoke. you walk in shortly after, ducking at the raised eyesbrows of ino and choji, smiling carefully at shikamaru and remove the vest easily. you hand it back with a thank you and he nods, slipping it back on with no comments or complaints.

later in the night, shikamaru does something unlike himself.

when shikamaru lies in bed, he holds the vest up to his face, nose buried in the collar just like you did when left alone. his head spins surround by the scent of citrus and jasmine - a note he didn’t pick up on when he was next to you. with his pounding heart and cheeks red, he realizes something that had been reaching its conclusion since his academy days.

shikamaru nara is in love with you.

#lamb.writes #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru fluff #naruto x reader #naruto fluff #finally. gave in and wrote for this guy that ive had a crush on since elementary school

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randonauticrap · 5 months

Text

Say Yes

Pairing ~ Jin Grandet x Reader

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Synopsis ~ Based on Jin's 18th Level Bond Story: Jin proposes a game to you in which no matter what question he asks you, you have to say "yes"... and you have to mean it. Appearances from the domestic affairs faction!

Author's Note ~ I've been absent for awhile, but it felt SO good to get back into writing for my favorite man. This is my first entry into @aquagirl1978's "A Series of Firsts" event, with my darling Jin and the prompt "First Kiss"! SO excited about my love finally getting his own feature in a fanfic writing event! <3

“Man! What a meal.” Leon whooped as he settled into one of the plush chairs around the fireplace with a hand over his swollen stomach.

“It was amazing, thank you Leon.” you said earnestly, moving inside the door to the sitting room after Yves and Licht.

“Sure was.” a silken baritone voice rumbled from behind you and two large, firm hands settled on each of your shoulders, giving them a squeeze as he spoke. “It was so good that I got to hear this pretty little thing moan, and I’ve always wanted to hear that.”

“Jin, god.” you muttered softly, the palm of your hand finding your forehead to hopefully hide the heat that had risen painfully to both of your cheeks.

“Ooh, say that again, sweetheart, I liked the sound of it.” he chuckled deeply into your ear and your whole body shivered before you decidedly pulled away from him to avoid further embarrassment. You liked Jin, it was no secret; not to you, nor to the other princes of the domestic affairs faction. You were pretty sure that even Jin himself knew, which didn’t bode well for your little crush. After all, wouldn’t he have said something at this point if the feeling was mutual? But he kept on teasing you as usual, pulling you along on his little string, then letting you go. Internally you had groaned when you’d realized the irony of the beast and prey analogy, but if that wasn’t the best way to describe your situation, you had yet to discover it.

“Jin!” Yves fumed, glaring at the 1st prince over the tray of sweets he carried in his arms. “Must you be so vile everywhere you go?” He set the tray down on the short table in front of the fireplace and dusted his hands off before plopping down next to Licht on the long, velvet couch.

“Vile? Yves, you wound your older brother.” Jin feigned hurt, making a show of placing his palm over his heart. You giggled at their antics before you could stop yourself, and Jin sent a wink your way. With the giddy feeling that pooled in your lower belly at his small gesture, you decided that perhaps you needed a little something to drink. At this point, it couldn’t hurt; at least alcohol would help explain the near permanent blush coloring your face.

"Anyone else want some?" You called out as you popped the champagne bottle open.

"I'll take some!" Leon replied. "I'm not usually a champagne guy, but we're celebrating tonight, so count me in." You chuckled, pulling another glass from the stand that Yves had brought in from the kitchen and pouring two glasses.

"You know what I prefer." Jin's sensual voice was so close to your ear that you jumped, spilling a little of the champagne on the table in front of you. He chuckled, sending sparks through you as the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck raised. The double entendre was not lost on you, even as he reached over you to get to the whiskey bottle; the defined muscles on his arm nearly close enough to your face to touch. You couldn't help but stare at the protruding veins on his forearm that snaked up and around to his bicep like a trail on a map, just begging to be followed. Even as he pulled his arm back to his own body, whiskey bottle in hand, your eyes followed the rippling muscles underneath his smooth skin. Nothing else in the room could possibly be as fascinating.

Behind you, Leon coughed forcibly and thankfully awoke you from your hypnosis. You blinked, at last tearing your eyes away from the first prince to focus on salvaging yours and Leon's drinks. You had always been a master at nonchalance, so your inability to act composed around Jin was very new, and wholly unwelcome. It made you feel like a fish out of water: floundering on the hard ground and pitifully attempting to breathe in air that wasn't meant for you.

Finally, you were able to take Leon his glass, and you perched next to Licht on the couch with your own, following Jin's motions in the chair next to you from the corner of your eye. He was so relaxed, his posture open and yet commanding all at once. A low simmering power radiated from him; a power he often disguised with seductive nuance. But you knew that the moment he decided to take charge, every other prince in the room would willingly fall in line behind him. He was the eldest, and though he did his best to disregard his position, the authority was there.

Even so, he preferred to take the backseat, to work from the shadows, to let the other princes take the credit that was owed him, and you both admired and disfavored that. You wished he thought more of himself; like you do. You thought the world of Jin Grandet, in too many ways to count. It's why you'd fallen in love with him to begin with. He was kind, fiercely kind beneath his mask of indifference. He was loyal to a fault, and so intent on making a positive difference in the world without even rising to claim the glory that accompanied it.

However, in that darkness is also where he hid. He hid his pain and his suffering, and buried his worth under years of guilt. The darkness befit him, but it also betrayed him. You saw it in his eyes sometimes; flashes of something he'd never allow his brothers to see… something only you had been given access to. It haunted him, and you wanted nothing more than to infiltrate his darkness with moonlight and stars. Sunlight was too bright for the likes of you and Jin; too blinding, too intimidating. But the moon shone light enough; light enough to expose the truth and still bring peace to his wounded heart.

You brooded quietly over your drink while the princes chatted, slipping further and further into a warm, murky daze as the champagne filled your senses. You didn't even notice the eyes of the first prince on you until he broke through your silence. "Let's play a game." He clapped his hands together and you jumped, your focus pulling back to your current reality with a snap. "Belle, you first. No matter what I say, you have to answer "yes". If you say "no", you lose."

"That's a terrible game." Licht muttered beside you, but you weren't paying attention. The room had a nice, fuzzy glow surrounding it, and Jin was looking at you so earnestly. How could you ever say no to him?

"Do I have to mean it every time I say yes?" You giggled, wriggling in your seat a little.

"Yes." Jin said, setting his glass of whiskey down on the coffee table in front of him.

"I thought it was my turn, Jin. Hehe" You teased, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.

"It is, sweetheart. That was just an example." He smirked, leaning towards you. He was still several feet away from you, but it suddenly felt like he was invading your space; taking the air you needed for himself. But it was pleasant, heady, and you leaned closer, happy to lose yourself in him.

"Okay then," you challenged. "Hit me."

"I'll start you off easy. Do you like Yves's sweets?"

A laugh bubbled forth from your lips. "Yes, of course! Anyone who doesn't just doesn't have taste buds."

Yves squeaked and you turned your head to find his face red. "Thank you." He murmured, a soft, embarrassed smile on his face.

"You're welcome, Yves." You chuckled, then turned back to Jin, whose gaze had never left you. "Easy peasy, next."

"Alright, how about… do you enjoy Sariel's lessons?"

You grimaced, recalling the particularly difficult one you'd had earlier this afternoon. "You're not playing fair, I told you about my day." You muttered under your breath and forced yourself to think back to last week when you did well on several of the assignments he'd given you, and the perfume Sariel had treated you to in return. "But yes, I enjoy them for the most part. Sariel is always nice enough to reward me with things when I do exceptionally well, and he doesn't have to do that."

Surprise as well as something you couldn't quite pin down colored Jin's features momentarily. "Sariel gets you gifts?" You nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm wearing the perfume he got me right now!" You stuck your arm out to him, no longer shy as the alcohol blurred some of your senses.

"Such a lightweight." Jin murmured softly, but there was no malice in it. He and Leon shared a look you didn't understand before Jin accepted your outstretched arm, wrapping his long fingers around your forearm, and leaned his face down to nuzzle his nose into your wrist. The gasp that escaped your lips was completely involuntary, but the sound mingled with Jin's quiet groan as he took in your scent mixed with the scent of the perfume, and you felt your face fully flush at the barely concealed eroticism of the moment you were sharing.

"Smells good." He murmured, his eyes falling closed for only a few seconds before they pulled back open and trained on you. "But I could do better. I know some scents that would suit you perfectly." His voice was almost low enough to be a growl and a hot shiver ran through you, settling in your lower belly as he let your arm go and sat back in his chair. "Last question." His voice was quiet and measured, but you felt the emotion behind it, and you were suddenly nervous.

"Okay…"

"Do you have feelings for me?"

All motion in the room ceased - even the flames in the fireplace seemed to halt their dance - and every eye fell on you. You gulped, knowing that what came next could either make you the happiest woman alive, or shatter your heart into a million unsavable pieces. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your panicked eyes met his focused ones. You had never seen him looking so intently at anything before, let alone you, and you fought to keep from squirming under his gaze.

I guess it's now or never…

"Yes." You breathed softly, then before anyone had time to respond, you added quickly. "Your turn!" Jin's eyes widened in surprise at the turn of events, but you didn't give him any time to question it. "Will you ever admit your feelings for me?"

The silence in the room stretched on, the air becoming even more tense now that Jin's question had been thrown back in his face. You sucked in a breath that didn't have nearly enough air in it as you waited for his answer, your eyes locked on each other with no indication of either party giving up. But after several torturous moments of silence, Jin's chest deflated, and his quiet murmur of "Yes" filled all of your senses like the oxygen you had been momentarily deprived of.

"Well, I think it's time for us to wrap up here. Licht, Yves." Leon clapped his hands and ushered his brothers out of the room, throwing Jin another pointed look before closing the door behind himself. You never took your eyes off of him, not while Leon, Yves, and Licht had gotten up, and not when they left. You were too afraid that the mirage in front of you would disappear and you'd wake up in your cold bed after another beautiful dream. You also couldn't be too sure that what Jin was saying was what you wanted him to be saying, so you waited, anxious and yearning all at one time, for him to explain.

"You know how I feel about falling in love…" Jin murmured quietly and your heart dropped.

"Yes." You whispered, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at your feet. It already hurt. Your poor heart already hurt.

"My simple plan to not fall in love, especially not with a commoner, has worked well for me for a really long time." He explained, and you nodded, still not looking at him. "It's always been easier to spend a night of fun with a woman and see her off the next morning with a satisfied smile on her face." Despite the fact that you knew this already, your gut twisted into jealous knots and tears sprang to your eyes. You blinked them away as best you could. Jin heaved a large sigh and rubbed his palm over his eyes. "But this plan sort of fell apart when I met you, see."

For the first time since you both were alone, your eyes snapped up to his face. He was smiling sort of sadly, emotions dancing across his face in a distorted line as he measured his next words. "You're understanding, caring, sweet, fun, funny… you're incredible. I wanted to protect you from somebody like me, but I went and fell for you like the selfish ass I am." He buried his face in his hands and shook his head, and before you could stop yourself, you were standing up and taking the few steps that would erase all space between you.

You cupped your hands over his and lifted his face to meet his eyes. "I don't want protection from you, Jin. I want you." You whispered, thumbing his cheeks gently as he stared up at you. It happened quickly after that. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his muscular body, and leaned up to press his lips to yours, urgently deepening the kiss like he had been starving for you for ages and now that he had tasted you, would never be letting you go again. Your fingers twisted into his short chestnut locks and tugged as you moaned softly into his mouth, savoring him just as much. He pressed the tip of his tongue to your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them willingly, allowing the newfound heat to overtake you. He grunted and squeezed your bottom with his large hands; only then did you realize you had been grinding onto his lap in your frenzy.

You pulled away to catch your breath, pleased to find Jin as breathless as you. Stroking his hair, you bumped his nose with your own. "You know what my next question is, don't you, Jin?" You murmured teasingly onto his lips, and he smirked in response, his grip tightening on your ass. "Yes." He purred, lifting you up in his arms as he stood. You yelped, then laughed, wrapping your legs around his middle and your arms firmly around his shoulders as he carried you out of the drawing room and back towards his own. "Good thing I like carrying you, sweetheart. Cause you won't be walkin' anywhere for awhile after tonight."

Tags for the Lovelies: @aquagirl1978 @rhodolitesroseforclavis @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @alvieeru @aria-chikage @tele86

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen series #jin grandet #ikepri jin #leon dompteur #ikepri leon #yves kloss #ikepri yves #licht klein #ikepri licht #ikemen prince jin #ikemen prince leon #ikemen prince yves #ikemen prince licht #a series of firsts #a series of firsts ccc

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raainberry · 6 months

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In the Dark

« As an adjective, the dark can describe things that are gloomy, difficult to interpret or heavy. »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst (but like in a good way i promise)

synopsis - stardom is ruthless. you’re her shelter.

wordcount - 1.2K

T/W - Alcohol (mentions), Smoking (not the tux)

A/N - i stumbled on a draft and stayed up too late again🧍‍♀️also you can define the type of relationship as you want i didn’t put any label bc its not important in this one

The entertainment industry holds thick curtains over its dark side. A fact that too many people overlook for their own pleasure. Or is it difficult to even see the curtains through all the bright and shiny glory it’s selling?

“I want to be a singer.”

“I want to be an actor.”

Innocent words spoken by children all over the world, no matter the generation. Innocent words and dreams eventually tarnished by white collars and signatures. By the time the children even realised what all those camera flashes meant, the curtains had already closed.

One of your closest relationships was one of those kids. She’d managed to actually make it. And now you’re the one witnessing the darkness it pulled them into, wondering how people could be so oblivious.

When you met Sana, her dream was still bright. She shined more and better than a lot of those cameras, most of them not even being able to keep up with her and only rendering a pale copy.

The last time you met Sana, those cameras and their flashes were the only thing keeping her company in the darkness behind the curtains.

The problem was: she wanted to be alone.

The light harassed her while her eyes begged for them to forget her and leave her in the dark.

They never did.

And if it weren’t for you, she would have closed her eyes and quit a long time ago.

Whenever it became blinding, she’d reach out to you. A text or a call, it didn’t matter. You were always there for her.

The last time she reached out, you’d asked her to take better care of herself. She was doing somewhat good lately. Good enough to fool the public she loved to please despite the downsides she faced.

But not you.

She couldn’t fool you, but she wanted to show you she was working hard for her happiness. That she was taking care of herself, like you’d asked her to.

So one night, she brought you along for the ride. “A night in my life.”, as she called it. It made you laugh, happy and excited to spend some time with her.

If only you knew what awaited you.

It was an eventful night. A confusing night. One you weren’t sure you’d remember properly, despite not having touched a drop of alcohol.

Your head was nearly spinning when you followed Sana out of the exit doors of the place she’d brought you to. A crowded place, kind of elitist, that allowed you to see a part of her you had yet to discover.

You knew she liked to dance, party, and have fun, but you didn’t expect her to be this… Loose?

Carefree wasn’t the word. Careless was more appropriate. That you understood when she pulled a cigarette out of nowhere.

Now, you weren’t a fan of those and your action might have been biased, but surely this couldn’t be good at all in her hands. A lot of things, all going from image to health went through your mind as you grabbed it from her hand.

Her laugh rung in the empty street. It was far too early in the morning, and far too late in the night. The air around you was crisp, somehow still and chilly as autumn started to make itself known. You noticed a familiar, faint string of steam blowing out of your nose, and it surprised you.

Just not as much as the words that followed her melodious laugh.

“So this is your limit.”

Your features remained still in front of her unpredictability. In front of your own curiosity.

“What?”

“You’ve put up with a lot tonight.” She said in a way that made you believe you’d hear her applauding you any second.

She only sat down though, her hand leaning against the wall for support and stability as she lowered herself to the ground.

“Honestly, I thought you’d call it quits when I pulled you on top of the bar or when I made out with that guy.” She chuckled. “I can’t believe a cigarette is where you draw the line.”

You stared at her, wondering how she’d even gotten her hands on these things in the first place. As far as you knew, no one in her circle smoked. But again, she was a grown adult. She could buy them if she wanted to, no one would bat an eye.

No one but you.

“It’s for your own good.” You simply answered before crushing it in your fist and throwing it in a bush nearby.

“Aw, you care about me.” She looked up to meet your eyes, and while your gaze might seem empty to most, Sana had learned to look further into them in order to truly see. “Is that why you’re disappointed?”

Her words startled you. Seemed like she had yet to be able to decipher what she was seeing. You could understand how but still, why would she think that?

“I’m not disappointed. I’m upset.” You corrected.

“You too? What’s your reason?” Her words subtly melted together, giving away her state of mind and betraying her otherwise perfect posture.

“It’s upsetting seeing you like this, Sana.” You cleared up.

“Like what?” She giggled. “Oh. You mean all pathetic and sad. Right, I almost forgot.”

A chuckle pushed itself past her lips, bitterness clear in the air as if she blamed you for reminding her.

”So you’re trying to forget…” You mumbled nodding to yourself as you assessed the situation for the first time.

This was much deeper than you thought.

It scared you, yet you weren’t even affected. You couldn’t even imagine what she was going through.

What kind of life was she living? What was she keeping to herself? Keeping from you? From the world?

What kind of feeling could be so bad it made her want to forget about every other one.

Forget about the world that kid dreamed of, and worked so hard for.

Your mind couldn’t begin to fathom the idea. It was hard enough witnessing it being a reality.

For a dear and loved one of yours at that.

“So this is your way of forgetting? Drinking and acting reckless?” You asked, and she nodded, quickly confirming your thoughts.

She was shameless. It almost scared her how quick she admitted to you what she hid from so many of her peers. From her closest friends. From her own parents. But she couldn’t help how easy it was. She knew nothing would go past your ears. Past your eyes.

Everything you witnessed of what she showcased, it stayed with you. Between the two of you.

“You’re not judging me, are you?” She asked, her voice a little softer. More fragile.

Yet you couldn’t help but chuckle as you went to sit next to her. “Have I ever?”

“Just making sure...”

A silence settled between you two. As if nothing was happening.

“You know, I’ve never asked you to forget.” You spoke up after a moment or two, earning her eyes on you. “Maybe that’s what you understood when I told you to take care of yourself, but… It’s not really the takeaway I was aiming for.”

“What was it then?”

“You won’t heal if you try to just drown out the wound. Especially with alcohol.”

A small silence settled again as your words sunk in, and as they did so, Sana felt tears threatening her.

“Then what should I do?” Her voice cracked, lips faltering. Her head fell to your shoulder as she stared right ahead of her with broken hope.

”I don’t know.” Your own words made you tear up.

Sadness and frustration were to blame.

The two of you shared those feelings that night, although for different reasons.

You hated how you couldn’t help her. She hated how she couldn’t be helped.

It would be something she’d have to figure out on her own.

But you’d be there the whole time.

#twice x reader #sana x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana #minatozaki sana

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solisaureus · 8 months

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something I really love about Riordan’s writing style is his ability to vividly describe environments.

Like look at this excerpt of Artemis’s tent from Titan’s Curse. In one paragraph he:

1. describes the general feeling that the setting gives off

2. notes a few major defining features of the space to help the reader picture it

3. describes a few minor details that make it feel nuanced and believable

4. draws a conclusion about the characters inhabiting the space

5. throws in a surprising magical feature to draw the reader further into the enchanted world

And through it all, it furthers our understanding of Percy, the narrating character — what he notices, how he relates it to his understanding of the world. It’s really well done and something I admire a lot about Riordan’s writing.

#robin text #rick riordan #rrverse

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hanasnx · 1 year

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arm kink

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k NOTES: i love arms i love thick biceps i love anakin skywalker’s arms <3 wanna ride them. im an arm enthusiastic that includes shoulders, upper arms, forearms, wrists, hands ooooo i love it WARNINGS: f!reader | arm kink | size difference | some smut.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER is large and muscled. everyone knows that. not only does he tower over most, but endless jedi training, and warmongering has sculpted his body much like you’d imagine a god’s.

he works out, he spars hand to hand combat regularly, he fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before. if you could paint, you’d paint his naked body over and over again. write love poems to describe the perfect vessel that carries his soul.

when the journey between the two of you began, you remembered thinking that he dwarfed you. it didn’t matter if you were average height and build, if you considered yourself bigger than most, or smaller. anakin skywalker was a beast.

sometimes he didn’t act like it.

but when you stood next to him? you never felt smaller. at one point you and kenobi joked that the both of you felt like a “dainty fairy princess” when compared to skywalker and his brutish figure. kenobi said you’d probably be able to curl up in anakin’s hands and fall asleep. the joke resonated in your mind for ages. oh, how you wished you could curl up in his hands.

appearances weren’t everything to you, you were just particularly appreciative of ani’s. the first time you’d seen his bare chest and broad shoulders with nothing obstructing your view, you felt faint. for the first time in your life you considered faking it in order to be caught in his strong arms.

oh, his arms. one of your favorite parts about him. you could rave about his arms. diary entries of pages filled about the description of his gorgeous arms. you’ve always had a thing for them on any sexual partner. it was just your luck anakin’s were flawless.

the rotator cuffs of his shoulders were defined. his hard and veiny forearm that connected to a thick wrist and a massive hand with lengthy fingers. his metal forearm you’d only seen a couple times, but you liked the way it looked. you liked it especially when anakin insisted using its vibrating feature on your clit. however, the stars of the show? the muscle that made you stay awake at night, fantasizing about licking and riding like a stiff cock?

anakin skywalker’s biceps.

it was inexplicable what gripped you about them. your gaze lingered on them during his training, how much space they took up in his sleeve, and how they rippled when they were visible. he laughed at your joke when you told him you wanted to hang off them like a monkey. you were not joking.

anakin didn’t know what he did to you that day. images of him lifting you from the ground by just his arm had you reeling.

at one point, he had curled them upwards, and flexed. you longed for a tape measure. why would it please you to know their circumference? you couldn’t say. your fingers danced across the lines of his limbs, tracing and squeezing. the happiest day of your life was when you asked to massage them and he had obliged. sensing your enjoyment of how big they were so he flexed minutely for you as you caressed them. a familiar feeling of excitement shot through you, stifling a whimper. once he had caught wind of how fond you were of his arms, paying extra special attention to his biceps, he made sure to keep them on display for you. to show them off.

you imagined this is how he felt about your ass or your tits. how manic he was when he got to squeeze them til the flesh popped out in between his fingers. smack them around. how it would bring him great joy to see them whenever he wanted, and the excitement that would surge through him everytime he actually got to. you wanted to leave scratch marks on his swollen biceps, hickies, teeth imprints… your own slick.

once you were aware that anakin had gotten wise to your little obsession, you admitted to him how you fantasized about tucking them in between the lips of your pussy. what that would feel like and if it’d add to your pleasure to know it was his arm of all parts. anakin was strong enough to pick you up with one arm, and you pondered if he set up his forearm against the wall, and balanced you on his flexed bicep, would you be able to get off on it like you would a thigh?

you wanted to smear your finish on it so it’d glisten.

one day, anakin had heard your silent plea and when he crawled underneath the covers you thought he was going down on you. instead, you felt his thick upper arm tuck itself in between your thighs, and flex against your naked pussy. his other hand squeezed your hip to guide you back and forth to grind down on his taut bicep. imagining the visual alone had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, rubbing your bare folds against his skin, your clit receiving the attention it so desperately deserved. once you’d been properly warmed up, you yanked the covers up and off the two of you. your gaze meeting his mischievous grin as his cheek rested against your belly. his arm rocked opposite to your hips, and your hands fixed themselves in his sandy curls. humming in content to see him eager to please you, even if it was a fascination you thought to be odd.

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lou-struck · 7 months

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Spooky Spikes

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

Flufftober Day 3- Halloween Practice

~Bokuto is excited for you to come to his Halloween volleyball practice so he can show off the costume you gave him.

Warnings: Bare butt cheeks (No Smut I promise very SFW), Bokuto is taller and has a bigger butt than the reader, Cursing.

There’s something about the fall that makes your little kitchen coffee corner feel just a bit cozier. The warm scents of cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom fill your nose as you brew yourself a steaming cup of chai tea. The ceramic mug is warm in your hand as you grip the pumpkin-shaped handle. Carefully walking it over to the sun-soaked kitchen table, the large window giving you the perfect view of your neighbor’s old apple tree. The leaves are just beginning to change from deep green to a crisp yellow around the slightly pathetic-looking fruits.

You raise the cup to your lips, letting your eyes flutter shut as you breathe in what can only be described as ‘Liquid Autumn.’ Blowing slightly on the wisps of steam to take your first sip. You hear a loud thudding sound coming from down the hall and pause.

Usually, you would be concerned and follow the noise, but you live with your lovingly klutzy boyfriend Kotaro Bokuto. The Volleyball player has never been the quietest in the morning when he is getting ready for morning practice.

“Babeeee, I need help.” his boisterous voice calls from behind you, the sound causing you to jolt as a bit of your tea splatters over the lip of the cup, down your hand, and onto the previously clean tabletop.

“Kou, what do you need ~” You turn your head mid-sentence and lose your train of thought when you see the tall form of your boyfriend. But instead of his defined muscles and owlish two-toned hair, all you see is a long white sheet draped over him; the only thing you are able to see of him behind the sheet is bare feet that poke out from .” What the hell are you wearing?”

“Boo!” he yells, too elated to answer your question, the happy yet slightly muffled sounds bouncing off the walls and throwing his sheet-covered arms up into the air. “Did I scare ya? I can’t see very well in this thing, so you’ll have to tell me what you think of my costume.”

Oh, right. Today is the MSBY Jackals’ annual Halloween practice. It’s just like any other practice, but the players get to wear some costumes as they play. Judging by your lovable boyfriend’s costume, he has forgotten that he actually needs to be able to play in his costume.

“Are you going as a ghost?” You ask, gently pulling up the sheet to reveal his thick gray eyebrows, pinkish cheeks, and ruffled two-toned hair. It must be pretty hot under there.

“Yeah, pretty iconic, don’t you think?” he winks, leaning in to give you a minty fresh kiss. “It’s a bit hard to see, though. Can you help me make some eye holes?” he asks, reaching a muscled arm just past you over to the knife block. Your stomach drops at the continuation he is making when he grabs your well-loved kitchen scissors.

“Babe, these are our good sheets.” you giggle, gently prying the kitchen scissors from his much larger hands. “We can’t just cut holes into them. And you are definitely not going to be able to play volleyball in that thing. You can’t even lift your arms to Spike.”

His features fall in the most heartbreaking way as he looks down at the linen sheet, mourning the loss of his Halloween costume idea. “But that was my big plan. I thought of it the other day when one of the trainers said that my spikes were scary.” His golden gaze drifts to the glowing green numbers on the stovetop. “Shoot, Practice starts in an hour and I don’t have another costume. What do I do?”

You place a comforting hand on his bicep and give him a reassuring smile. “We still have time to think of something for you, what did you wear last year? I don’t remember you telling me.”

“I-I can’t tell you that,” he says quickly, his large hand coming up to hide the rapidly spreading blush on his cheeks; it’s too embarrassing to talk about.”

“But not embarrassing enough to not wear it to the gym surrounded by at least twenty people?”

He still shakes his head adamantly. “I don’t have that costume anymore, we gotta think of something else.”

You furrow your brow in thought,

“Wait, come with me; I think I have an idea.” You smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway eagerly. The still pristine bedsheet flows behind the two of you.

In the back of your closet lies a clear plastic tub filled with old costumes and pieces from years past. You dig through the animal masks and wizard robes until you find what you are looking for. Your old Skeleton costume consists of an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of leggings; a realistic skeletal system print covers the entire thing.

“Would these work?” you ask, holding up the pieces for him to take. The costume was baggy on you, but the stretchy material means that it most likely could fit your much taller, much more beefy boyfriend.

His eyes light up when he sees the costume, and nods eagerly. “This will be great. I can actually play in these. He picks you up easily and spins you around the cramped closet space. “You’re so amazing Y/n. Where would I be without you?”

“ single and costumeless.” You giggle, returning his bear hug with as much strength as you can muster. “Wait, hang on,” you place your hands on his shoulders as you are hit with your second moment of brilliance that morning. “I think I have some face paint underneath the sink.”

After buying you a fresh tea to replace the one you hadn’t gotten to enjoy earlier, Kotaro insisted on dragging you to practice with him so you can see just how awesome his costume looks in comparison to his other teammates.

As the nosy little thing you are, it didn’t take much persuading to come with him. The scent of icy hot reaches your nose as the two of you pass the athletic training room where a few players are getting taped for today’s session.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna wear your shorts over the leggings? “You ask, noticing just how tight the leggings are on his muscled bottom.

“No, I don’t need it,” he says, looking down and giving his butt a playful little smack. “It would ruin the vibe of my Amazing costume.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you giggle as he dances towards the sound of volleyball. He certainly is the happiest volleyball-playing skeleton you’ve ever seen.

“Okay, babe, wish me luck.” Kotaro grins, stopping just outside the gymnasium doors, leaning in towards you with his now skeletal-painted lips puckered.

You place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly, “Wait, you don’t want to mess up your face paint. You say quickly, noticing the puppy dog eyes he is giving you.

“I don’t care about that if it means I don’t get a kiss,” he says with a pout, crossing his arms in usual Bokuto fashion. He is already leaning in for your kiss. He knows just how effective his pouty face is on you.

“Good luck,” you smile, leaning in on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

He is so happy he practically skips into the gym, pushing open the doors and waving to you one more time before he goes to work.

Now alone, you turn away from the sound of squeaking shoes and spikes to walk up the steps to the upper bleachers, where certain spectators are allowed to watch without distracting the players.

You are now looking over the whole court and see the dozens of players scattered around as practice begins. Costume-wise, it looks like the majority of the players are wearing masks of some sort, making it hard to tell who is who. But eventually, you do see familiar faces.

The blond head of Atsumu Miya grabs your attention as he takes his place by the net, a long, flowing red and black vampire cape tied behind his neck. And judging by how muffled his on-the-court communication is, he must be wearing some of those cheap vampire fangs as well.

Shoyo Hinata Is wearing all black with a large pair of black feathered wings tethered to his back with little elastic strings. They flap clumsily as they fail to keep up with the redhead’s speed as he runs about the court with boundless energy.

The Third Person you are able to make out is Sakusa Kiyoomi, a true master of disguise. He is wearing his normal practice clothes and really looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. The only thing out of place on his clean frame is the hastily stuck red and white name tag that sits crookedly on his chest.

With those great options to compete with, you can safely say that Bokuto’s costume is by far the best. You watch as the team tries to play. Atsumu keeps tripping over his cape when he jumps, and Little feathers from Hinata’s wings keep littering the court as he bounds around, and the other players keep having to take off their rubber monster masks to breathe and truly look miserable. It keeps you thoroughly entertained throughout the training session.

In between sets in their practice scrimmage, Bokuto and a few others end up by your bench, and you’re able to hear a little bit of your boyfriend’s not-so-quiet conversation.

“Omi, do you like my faceeee?” He gushes, pointing to his slightly sweaty face paint. “Y/n did it this morning; Arent they sooooo amazing.”

His honest declarations of his love for you are one of the many reasons why you love him. He effortlessly brings a smile to your lips as he continues to show off his painted face. The design really wasn’t that difficult to make. You just looked up a quick tutorial of how to do it online earlier and were able to copy it fairly well.

“No fair,” Hinata whines, coming over to look at the carefully painted design you made. He looks up at you and waves with a big grin. “Hey Y/n, can you paint my face next year too?”

“I guess I can,” you call back to him. “I’m not a professional or anything so I~”

“Helloooo? Your boyfriends jealousy interrupts, waving his hand in front of the shorter man’s face, “They’re mine, getting my face painted by them is a Boyfriend perk.”

“Oh shoot, is that a thing?” The ginger responds with wide eyes as the two of them finish their water break and jog back onto the court.

“Watch me, Babe,” he calls, trying to shoot you a wink as he takes his place by the net. The ball is set, and you watch as Bokuto begins his approach; the ball is set high over the net as the owl-haired man leaps for it. Soaring high above the double block in his way, he brings his hand down onto the poor volleyball with a frightening force. The ball hits the ground and bounces off in the opposite direction.

But Bokuto’s kill is robbed of any kind of celebration because the minute his powerful legs land on solid ground, the impact causes those little skeleton-printed leggings of yours to rippppp right down the middle, revealing two things to you and the rest of the gym as a deafening silence falls all around you.

One, Kotaro Bokuto was not wearing any underwear underneath your now-ruined leggings.

And Two, his muscular ass cheeks.

He feels the breeziness down below and looks at you with wide eyes, clearly too stunned to speak, or move, or cover up.

You are in the same boat as him as your jaw hits the floor and your eyes go right to the rip.

As you are captivated by the scene in front of you, no one else says a word. Some are too fixated on Kotaro’s bare ass cheeks that seem to shine under the fluorescent lights of the stadium, and others are wondering where the hell the volleyball he spiked went off to

A player in a rubbery haunted pumpkin mask steps forward, his footsteps echoing across the silent gymnasium, breaking the silence. His hand flies up to take off the mask, revealing a head of slicked-back black hair.

Captain Shūgo Meian sighs, Looking completely done as he tosses your poor boyfriend a towel to cover the rip as he speaks. “Bokuto, while this situation is uhhh… unfortunate. It is still not nearly as bad as what happened last year.”

Tagging: @eussstasss @enchantedforest-network

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